


Air of Mystery

by EvilLittleImp



Series: Everything We Never Had Before [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, During Evil Queen | Regina Mills's First Dark Curse, F/M, goldenswan - Freeform, partial canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26668687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilLittleImp/pseuds/EvilLittleImp
Summary: “I’ll tell you, if you answer one of my questions.""Deal."“Do you believe in magic, Miss Swan?”Definitely a Golden Swan fiction, though it is slow burn. This will be long, so if you're not the patient type, I'm very sorry. :}
Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Prince Charming | David Nolan/Snow White | Mary Margaret Blanchard, Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold/Emma Swan
Series: Everything We Never Had Before [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2066622
Comments: 24
Kudos: 49





	1. Stay Still

**Author's Note:**

> The updates on this will probably be slow, but I'll try not to go too long without posting something new. I hope you enjoy this!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma is knee deep in Storybrooke, she needs to leave as quickly as she can. But what about Henry?

Emma was only half listening to Henry as they entered Granny’s Diner. He was talking about fairytales  _ again _ . They took the center booth as it was the only one open, unfortunately. Emma never liked to be the center of attention, but now attention was all she got. After being elected sheriff, everyone was more curious than ever about the blonde who ran over their welcome sign. She made the front page two weeks in a row, then it was - thankfully - back to third grade spelling bees. This town was seriously deprived of interesting gossip. Maybe there was some truth behind Henry’s theory after all. Everything around her just felt so. . .  _ retro _ . It was weird to say the least.

“Emma? Emma?!” Henry waved his hand in front of her face.

“Uh, yes?” Emma was shaken from her reverie.

“Did you hear anything I just said?” he raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Yes,” she replied defensively, “Mr. Ritch, who owns Midas Investments, is actually the real Midas.”

“That was what I was saying five minutes ago, Emma. I know you don’t believe yet, but you need to know this,” Henry admonished.

“Yes, of course, sorry. Continue,” Emma waved her hand.

“Mr. Spencer is King George, your grandfather, sort of. His association with your father was all a ruse,” Henry smiled mischievously.

How was this kid her son? Did Regina drop him on his head when he was very young? Or was he really just this lonely? She wanted to play along so he wouldn’t put himself in danger again, but this was all he ever talked about. Maybe she should have taken the girls up on their Valentine’s offer. Then again, she would have been called out to Mr. Gold’s cabin later that night. That had truly been scary.

All of a sudden, the diner went quiet. Everyone looked down, voices hushed, faces were hidden, and even children sat as still as statues. Even Regina didn’t get that reaction out of people. That could only mean one thing. As the room went down several degrees, Emma’s theory was confirmed. The little bell jingled as the door was opened and closed, but that was the only sound besides the sizzling of the fryers. 

“Mrs. Lucas, I’m here to collect rent,” Mr. Gold smirked, like he needed to say it.

No, everyone knew why he was there. He was merely rubbing it in. Emma might not be afraid of him, but she had the good sense not to get in his way. If the man wasn’t the Devil, she owed Henry twenty bucks.

“Yes, it’s right here,” Granny, the usually hard-as-granite woman, fumbled a bit before handing him the roll of cash as though if she touched him, she would contract a lethal disease.

Emma might have underestimated him before, but not now. There was a good reason everyone was afraid of him, but maybe she was also a little curious.

“How did he hurt his leg?” Emma whispered to Henry, because whispering just seemed right.

“Nobody knows. I haven’t figured out who he is yet. I think he might be royalty,” Henry eyed Mr. Gold suspiciously.

“ _ Someone _ has to know what happened to his leg,” she furrowed her brows.

“Maybe it was the Mafia,” Henry looked dead serious.

“He probably slipped on a skateboard, and now he’s an eternally grumpy old man,” Emma snickered.

“I may be old, but my hearing is as sharp as ever,” said a voice behind her.

Emma jumped slightly and turned to see the man in question standing right behind her.

“How the hell do you do that? It’s creepy,” Emma frowned.

“I’ve been called worse, Miss Swan,” Mr. Gold smiled.

“So. . . how did you hurt your leg?” Henry, always curious, chimed in.

“I’ll tell you, if you answer one of my questions,” Gold grinned wolfishly, more savagely than even Ruby.

“A deal? I’m never making another deal with you, Gold,” Emma snarled.

“Oh, come now, Sheriff. It helped you win the election, didn’t it?” he smirked, he knew he was right.

“What does he mean, Emma?” Henry frowned thoughtfully.

“Nothing, Henry. He means  _ nothing _ ,” Emma leveled the pawnbroker with a glare, but he didn’t even blink.

“So, do we have a deal? Or shall my leg forever remain a secret?” Gold folded both his hands over his cane.

“You’re telling me nobody else knows?” Emma raised an eyebrow.

“Not a single living soul,” he waved his hand for effect.

Emma’s stomach churned at the way ‘living’ flowed out of his mouth. Did someone else know at one point? If he had killed someone over this, did she really want to know?

“Deal,” Emma blurted.

“I hurt it in war,” his eyes momentarily glazed over with some invisible pain of the past. Just as quickly as it was there, it was gone again.

“You were in a war?” Henry asked, astonished.

“You were a soldier?” Emma asked at the same time.

“Aye, indeed I was,” Gold nodded to both of their questions.

Emma wanted to ask which war it was, but the deal was one question. Now, what would he ask her? She now owed him a favor and an answer. Emma was afraid of both of them.

“Do you believe in magic, Miss Swan?” Gold asked with a tilt of his head.

“Why would you want to know?” Emma looked cautiously at Henry who was leaning over the table eagerly.

“Just curious.”

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

“Ah,” Gold raised his forefinger, “But satisfaction brought it back.”

She was stuck between a rock and a never ending abyss of darkness. Either, she could look completely insane and please her kid, or she could look very logical and risk hurting Henry again. The real question was: what did she really believe? Was Gold trying to bring to light some secret mental instability within her mind?

“I suppose magic could exist,” Emma could totally get out of this okay.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Gold was a tricky little imp.

“Mmm. I believe. . .” Emma trailed off uncertainly.

“It’s fine. I don’t expect you to answer now, but you must answer eventually. I’ll be waiting when you have your answer,” Gold began to walk away.

“What war did you fight in?” Emma would take a chance.

“It matters naught,” he tittered happily, pleased with Emma’s discomfort.

“Are you an illegal immigrant from Scotland, or the moon, maybe?” she asked, frustrated. 

“Perhaps.”

“Why can’t you ever answer a question with a straight answer?”

“And lose my air of mystery? Never,” Mr. Gold walked out the door with a smirk.

Now she owed him two things. She had to leave Storybrooke, but she couldn’t. She was only ever good at running because she had nothing holding her down. Now, she had to try the other thing: staying put. Emma had to put every fear aside and focus on her kid. Once she knew he was okay, she was gone. Never stay, never get hurt. This time would be no different.

-S. Hanson


	2. Just for a Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma and Mary Margaret both carry their problems on their backs, but maybe they can help each other.

After walking Henry to the bus, hoping he would actually stay at school, Emma went to the station to get some work done. Storybrooke wasn’t exactly a crime center, but the paperwork was never ending. Calls came in and out about random things that had more to do with the mayor’s line of work than her own. One lady even made a call about Pongo! The time gave her a lot of space to think, though. Sidney’s offer was still fresh in her head. She had accepted, and she had been humiliated. Gold had also made her an offer, because that man never quit. She felt like a piece of meat, and all the dogs in this little town were ready to take a bite of the new blood. The only one she really wanted to know was dead, and now she had his job. That was sick and twisted, even in her mind. Sidney was really the only ally she had at this point. The kid wanted her, maybe even needed her, and she couldn’t let him down. Even if she had to put her faith in Regina’s old lackey, she would bring the mayor down. One way or another, Regina would fall. But then where did that leave Henry? It was all so confusing, but it all came full circle. Emma would gain full custody. She couldn’t do that.

Emma stayed at the station until late evening when she deemed it okay to go home. Home. Mary Margaret’s apartment had become home. When did that happen? She was too tired to think about it any further. So, she went to her. . .  _ friend’s  _ apartment. Home, friend, family. She really did need to get out of here. But she needed to take Regina down. But then where would Henry go! Emma let out an audible groan.

“Long day?” asked a sweet voice from across the room.

Emma jumped slightly, second time that day, “Oh, Mary Margaret. You have no idea.”

“I might,” she sighed, but then smiled again, “Would you like some cookies? I made some when I got home.”

“Do they have pink frosting?” Emma teased.

“Oh,” Mary Margaret frowned slightly, “No, but I can put some on.”

“No, that’s okay. Thank you, though,” Emma smiled.

In all her life, Emma had never met someone as kind hearted as the woman who was now mothering her. It was sweet, and a little annoying, but she loved Mary for it. Though, the schoolteacher’s taste in partners left a lot to be desired.

“How’re you and David?” Emma came and sat down on one of the bar stools.

“Emma, I know you don’t approve of it, but. . .” Mary Margaret rushed, “We’re doing pretty well now. We’ve been talking about telling Kathryn.”

Emma groaned again. No! They needed to think this through. David wasn’t worth all the impending heartbreak. The man would probably back out of a divorce faster than a cheetah. He may be better than Dr. Whale, but almost anyone would be better than him.

“Come on, Emma. She deserves to know,” Mary Margaret reasoned.

“But can David actually tell her?” Emma looked sympathetically at her friend. 

“Yes! He’s going to,” she defended with conviction.

“If you say so. You know I’ll support you no matter what,” the sheriff smiled.

“Thank you, Emma, really,” Mary Margaret gave her one of those angelic little smiles, “So, why was your day long and troubling?”

And, back to her problems. Her mountains of problems. Where should she start? _‘I’m stuck in one place because the kid I couldn’t support came and found me, right when I was getting my life back on track. Now, I have a new job, just another stupid reason to stay. I’m in a war against my child’s adoptive mother who just so happens to be mayor. I want to win said war, but if I do, I’ll have to keep the child I gave away. That child also thinks fairytales are better than reality and has decided that they’re one and the same. On top of all that, I owe the scariest guy in existence a favor_ and _an answer to a question I don’t truly understand._ _So, my day was troubling because I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do next.’_

“No reason. Just a lot of paperwork,” the lie fell from Emma’s lips more smoothly than the truth would have.

Mary Margaret nodded slowly, though she didn’t look like she believed the blonde. That was okay. Emma didn’t need people to believe her, she only needed them to leave her alone. Mary Margaret was only trying to help, but she was also practically pushing Emma’s walls over. The sheriff had gone too long without someone to trust, she couldn’t start now. It had saved her a lot of pain. Now that she was falling for this little town, she had lost a man she might have been falling in love with, she had gotten a job protecting people that saw her as nothing but a mystery to be solved, a gossip well, and she had humiliated herself trying to bring down the almighty mayor. But she just kept going, and going, and going. It was a never ending vortex that was intent on stripping her of her beliefs and thrusting her into a world she knew nothing about. One lost, scared, alone little girl swallowed in the jaws of life all over again. Emma’s life would always be like this: at the cruel, demonic, twisted talons of a world that hated everyone who tried to play fair. There are no heroes, there are no villains, just people. These people make good choices and bad choices, but they are just people. There is no black and white world, just a lot of grey. The only moral line is the line the majority, the people who matter, set for everyone. Any decision is the decision of the people leading their sheep. The people in power play around with their pawns while everyone suffers all the more for it. But those are the things you aren’t supposed to know. Those are the thoughts, the protests, the realizations that make enemies. There are no truths, just perception. That is how the world works, and she just had to walk to the beat.

Mary Margaret turned as if to move towards her room, but Emma made a decision. She could be lost and lonely and scared for the rest of her life, but just once, maybe she would let someone in. If only for a second, she would forget her walls, her rules, everything, and just give herself. . . a friend. Maybe even a family.

“Mary Margaret, wait,” Emma called.

The schoolteacher stopped and stared. What was Mary expecting? Did she. . . did she want to help Emma? Maybe she did. Maybe she didn’t. Maybe the worried looks were Emma’s imagination. Maybe they weren’t. Maybe, just maybe, Emma had finally found someone who cared for her, someone she could trust.

“I’m scared,” Emma whispered.

Two words and the sheriff was almost broken. A tear slipped down her cheek. She was alone, she was scared. She didn’t know what to do, and now she had someone relying on her. She was lost.

“It’s okay, Emma. I’m scared too.”

And just like that, she wasn’t alone. No, she had arms around her. She had fresh tears joining her own. She had someone to help her pick up the pieces of her broken soul. She had a friend, a family. Mary Margaret and Henry were her family. She wasn’t alone.

“Why don’t we have some hot chocolate?” Mary Margaret offered.

It wasn’t just chocolate, it was the teacher’s way of saying “if you want to talk. . .” as subtly as possible. Emma didn’t want to talk, but she wanted someone there. Another warm body. Another person who was there for her. Someone who had hope. Someone who wouldn't give up. Someone who was brave, strong, and kind. Someone who loved her.

“With cinnamon?” Emma smiled hopefully.

“Of course with cinnamon, silly girl,” Mary Margaret laughed and moved to make the chocolate.

Just for a moment, Emma was happy. Just for a moment, Emma was home. Well and truly where she was supposed to be.

-S. Hanson


	3. Another Day

Emma got up, completely not ready for another day. It was always something in this town, though. Perhaps today, a meteor would come from the heavens and kill them all. Or, maybe - even more unlikely, but still strange enough to happen - Regina would finally pull the stick out of her butt. No, the sun would freeze over before that possibility could even be considered. She got ready for work anyways. 

Speeding through her routine, Emma only hesitated when she needed to pin her badge on. Only for a second, Emma remembered Graham. She saw his smiling face as he thanked her for returning memories she didn’t know he was missing. She heard him laugh at one of her sarcastic comments that was meant to push him away. She felt his soft lips on hers as her heart opened to the possibility of love once again. Then, she saw his lifeless face. Then, she heard his body hit the floor. Then, she felt his cold skin against her hand. And that second was over. Emma couldn’t remember Graham or his stupid jokes. She couldn’t remember any of it without feeling all the same pain of that night. So she didn’t remember it. She just pinned her badge on so she could look every inch the sheriff she was pretending to be. Emma would pretend for as long as she could, and then she would have to go back to real life.

The sheriff went into the kitchen to toast some bread with the new toaster she had bought Mary Margaret. It was already seven fifteen, so the teacher was probably sitting one table away from David Nolan, pretending to read a book or eat her breakfast. Emma knew her friend was in love, but did she really have to pick a married guy? They were planning on telling Kathryn ‘soon’ as Mary kept saying. That was really going to backfire, and Emma kept telling her, but she just wouldn’t listen.

Emma decided she would go to Granny’s to get some coffee and maybe even read the paper. There probably wasn’t anything interesting in there, but it would keep her occupied until she had to be at work.

When she walked in, it was as loud as usual. Families eating together before they were to send their kids off to school. Couples drinking their coffee and talking while holding hands. Friends chatting away as they wasted time before work. No one sat alone in that diner, except for one person. Every seat was filled for morning rush, except the one across from  _ him _ . It was only yesterday that she came to owe him yet another thing. Though, it would be kind of nice to see if she could annoy him to death. Then she wouldn’t owe him anything.

And that is how she found herself seated opposite Mr. Gold in the booth by the door. He didn’t even look up from his newspaper. He just kept sipping his drink from a to-go container while he read.

“Good morning, Miss Swan,” he greeted cordially, still not looking at her.

“Morning, Gold,” Emma smiled.

He frowned slightly at the loss of his formal title. Other than that, though, he showed no signs of even hearing her. So Emma just sat there and watched him read, trying to unnerve him, but it appeared he was not a self-conscious reader.

When Ruby came by their table in her usual tight, too short shorts and her almost nonexistent shirt to take Emma’s order, she stared disbelievingly before asking Emma what she would like.

“Just a coffee, please,” Emma said, Ruby knew her usual.

“Not cocoa today, mmm?” Gold hummed questioningly after Ruby walked away.

“Oh, so you did notice me sit down?” she raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. No one else in this town is brave enough to stare down the beast while he’s reading,” he quipped smugly.

“Well I’ve always been told I walk on the wild side,” Emma smirked.

“Careful, monsters bite,” Gold smirked right back at her.

“Only if they can get close enough.”

“Is that a challenge, Miss Swan?”

“I’ll leave that up to you.”

Emma snatched up his newspaper, much to his chagrin. She couldn’t help but feel opprobrium every time she saw Gold’s face, but she did enjoy this little game they had. Ever since she came to town, they had been having a battle of wits and minds, and she couldn’t tell who was winning.

When her coffee came, Emma just started sipping while staring at her paper, ignoring Ruby’s inquiring glance. The girl’s mouth never stopped running, yet people kept telling her things. She should consider a position as a reporter.

“Is there any particular reason you decided to disrupt my morning routine, dearie?” Gold asked, almost sounding annoyed. Almost.

“This was the only seat available. And it came with a free newspaper,” Emma didn’t look up from her paper as she spoke, knowing it aggravated him.

“Ah, so you don’t have the answer to my question,” he concluded.

Emma didn’t say anything to that. She took a small victory in the fact he admitted she was disrupting him, though. She didn’t know if she could get under his skin, but at least she could annoy him. It was the little things that mattered.

“Perhaps you could answer a different one,” Gold said casually as he sipped his drink.

That got Emma’s attention, “You want to switch questions?”

“No, I merely want to ask you another one,” he smirked.

“Why?” Emma asked with suspicion.

“Because, Miss Swan, you intrigue me, and I’d like to know you better,” he answered with a smile.

She searched his eyes for any alternative reasons, but came up empty. Was she really so interesting that he would sacrifice some of his secrets for some of hers? If he was proposing a question for a question, she would know more about him than anyone else in town. Perhaps she already did.

“Okay. If you ask me one, I get to ask you one. Every time,” Emma said.

“And if you don’t answer, I don’t have to answer,” Gold added.

The sheriff stared at him for several seconds before deciding it was fair enough. She would know just as much about him as he knew about her. That would definitely level the figurative playing field.

“May I ask my first question?” Gold prodded.

“Shoot,” Emma nodded.

“Did you ever find your parents?” Gold asked.

“How do you know I’m an orphan?” Emma shot back.

He stared at her with a raised eyebrow for several seconds before she caught on. She opened her mouth and closed her mouth several times.

“That’s-that’s not what I- that wasn’t my question!” Emma said indignantly.

“But you asked it nonetheless,” he smirked happily.

“That doesn’t count!” she continued.

“Oh, but it does,” he grinned

“No, I never found my parents,” Emma conceded.

“I read the newspaper,” Gold said.

Of course, the fact that she was an orphan had been in the newspaper. How could she forget? In this town, she was the eighth wonder of the world. So much for leveling the playing field.

“Cheater,” Emma muttered.

“As I always say, ‘read the fine print.’ You really should pay closer attention to your words, Miss Swan,” Gold took another sip of his drink.

“What’s your first name?” Emma asked.

“Who’s Henry’s father?” Gold replied.

“Very well,” she sighed.

He was really serious about this ‘names have power’ thing. Giving that information away wasn’t worth a name, though. That answer was locked away in the deepest, most forgotten place in her mind, banished from her heart.

“What’s your middle name?” Emma tried again.

Gold seemed to think about it a moment before, “Were any of your foster parents abusive?”

“I wonder why on earth you would want to know that,” Emma made sure not to phrase it as a question.

“Just curious.”

“No. None of them were physically abusive.”

“Anyone who doesn’t call me by my surname calls me by my second name. It’s Weaver,” Gold admitted.

“Weaver? Are you serious?” Emma laughed.

“What’s wrong with it?” he furrowed his eyebrows.

“Your name is Weaver Gold?”

“Yes.”

“Do you not see how funny that is?” Emma asked.

“It’s a bit ironic,” Gold smiled.

“No kidding,” Emma laughed again.

Emma looked up at the clock on the wall. It read eight o’clock sharp, which meant she would be late.

“Crap,” Emma cussed.

“Miss Swan, such a crass word shouldn’t come out of such a pretty mouth,” Gold chided.

Emma leveled him with a glare before downing her coffee and walking briskly to the door. She looked back at him only once before she left.

“You forgot to pay, dearie,” Gold scowled.

“No, I didn’t. You’re being a gentleman and paying for me,” Emma smiled as she walked out the door.

Perhaps this day wouldn’t be so bad after all. Maybe it would be just fine. No meteors and no Reginas. She didn't even have to pay for her coffee.

{[(/*\\)]}

It had been a fairly quiet day at the station. She only got there a few minutes late, so Regina would never notice. Emma didn’t need to give the mayor any reasons to fire her, so she had to be careful. It was a pretty quiet town, but every now and then, there was something like Leroy walking around town with a pickaxe while drunk. Why he chose a pickaxe, Emma would never know. So, when she glided through the whole day and clocked out at ten with nothing more than some paperwork on her desk, she wasn’t surprised. Storybrooke may be low on crime, but it had never ending stacks of paperwork that seemed to have been piling up for years. Curiouser and curiouser.

When Emma got home, she was ready to throw up her feet and watch some television. Maybe Mary would be up for joining her if she didn’t watch anything too scary. However, when Emma walked through the door, she saw Mary Margaret laying on her bed, crying into a pillow.

“Mary Margaret, what’s wrong?” Emma asked gently as she approached her friend’s bed.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Mary groaned without looking up.

“Do you want to be alone?” Emma layed a tender hand on her friend’s shoulder.

“Nope.”

“How about cocoa?”

“Yep.”

As Emma got up to go make them their drinks, planning on adding a little of that whiskey Mary kept hidden, she finally got a good look at the teacher’s face. There were tear tracks lining her cheeks and her eyes were rimmed red, but there was also a bruise on her cheek. Emma wanted to ask, but she remembered Mary didn’t want to talk. Instead, she just went and made them their drinks, adding a little more MacCutcheon whiskey than she originally planned.

When she got back to the bed, Mary Margaret had her face dry, though she still looked like she wanted to burst. She just sat there. Mary took her drink numbly as she just stared into space. She brought it to her lips and took a sip. Suddenly, she choked a little and looked down at her drink in surprise.

“Are you trying to poison me?” Mary Margaret asked sadly.

“Only your brain cells,” Emma answered as she took a sip of her own cocoa.

When Mary lifted an eyebrow, Emma clarified, “Whiskey. I figured you needed it tonight. No offence, but you look like crap.”

As soon as the sentence came out of her mouth, Emma thought of Gold and what he had said earlier. Why was she thinking of him right now? She needed to be thinking of nothing but Mary.

“Yah, I’m sure I do,” Mary nodded tiredly.

Just when Emma was sure she could pry an answer out of her friend, her phone rang. As the sheriff, she was technically always on duty since she didn’t have a deputy, so she answered immediately, shooting Mary an apologetic glance.

“Sheriff Swan,” Emma said into the receiver.

Mary Margaret watched Emma’s face fall as she listened to her phone. What was it now? Yet another thing added to a horrible day?

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” Emma said after she ended the call.

The sheriff flew off the bed and grabbed her keys. She already had her boots and her red leather jacket on, so all she needed to do was get to her car.

“Why?” Mary asked curiously.

Emma only hesitated a second before saying, “Kathryn’s car was found near the town line, and she’s not in it. I need to call David and get down there.”

-S. Hanson


	4. Ditto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy, please comment if you like it!

By the time Emma was done with the crime scene, she was ready to pass out. David’s face told many tales of surprise and sadness, but none of guilt. Sydney, always nosey, was at the crime scene - which really wasn’t a crime scene yet - even though he wasn’t a reporter any more. Just when she thought she would be able to ditch him after he promised to get her the listing of recent phone calls, he popped back into the equation with a ‘tell me what you find’. It had been a long night and she needed coffee stat.

The afternoon crowd at Granny’s was the same as always when she got there. The booth in the back was open, so she walked over to take it. She didn’t originally plan to stay long, but she needed a break. She could stay for maybe thirty minutes before heading back to work. Nobody could fault her for that.

“What can I getcha?” Ruby asked enthusiastically with her red capped pen and notepad ready.

“Just my usual coffee and a blueberry muffin,” Emma sighed as she rubbed her eyes.

“Okay,” the waitress chirped, but she stayed there.

“ _ Yes _ ?” Emma asked in an aggravated tone, though Ruby didn’t seem to notice.

Instead, she seemed to take it as a que to sit down. Happily sliding onto the vinyl seat across from Emma, she grinned broadly. Her smile was all teeth and lipstick as she raised her eyebrows expectantly at the sheriff. The curious expression on the scantily clad waitress made Emma want to run, but she stayed seated, fidgeting under Ruby’s intense gaze.

“So. . . what’s up with you and Mr. Gold?” Ruby’s eyebrows bobbed suggestively.

“What are you talking about?” Emma asked tiredly.

“I’m talking about the flirting! And eating breakfast together!” Ruby squealed.

Emma swore the girl was about to launch across the table and grab her hands. Ruby was practically hovering with excitement and caged energy. The sheriff could see it now: her, Ruby, and Mary all sitting in a circle, braiding each others’ hair and gossiping about boys and Regina. Emma shook her head and scrunched her nose, which Ruby seemed to take as rejection of her accusation.

“I saw it,” Ruby stated matter-of-factly, while neither of them noticed the diner go quiet.

“We weren’t flirting. I was annoying him,” Emma crossed her arms.

“Oh, really? Well, I’ve never seen him smile so much! He must have been  _ really _ annoyed,” Ruby smiled.

“He wasn’t smiling! He was doing that weird half smirk, know it all thing that clearly says ‘I’m a-’”

“I would really hate for you to finish that sentence, Miss Swan. I feel it might damage our relationship,” said a level voice from behind the sheriff, making her jump.

Without turning around, Emma shooed Ruby away and said, “We don’t have a relationship, Gold.”

“Oh, you wound me, dearie. Here I thought we were becoming friends,” Gold gracefully slid into the space Ruby had vacated and placed his cane near the wall.

“ _ That’s _ what you got out of yesterday?” Emma stared at him skeptically.

“That is what I got out of the fact you have not punched me yet,” Gold corrected.

“If I punch you, will you go away?”

“Unlikely.”

Emma was half tempted to try anyways while he picked up his menu, but she decided against it. He sat there, calmly staring at the menu while she boiled in her seat. She realized with a jolt, this was what she did to him only a day previous. He was playing her game.

“I’m going to ask you questions if you sit here,” Emma warned.

“Fire away, my dear,” Gold waved Ruby back over.

Emma thought of her question as the waitress took his order of tea in a to-go cup. She thought it was odd he drank tea. Perhaps that’s what he had been drinking the day before. She hadn’t seen anyone else in the whole town drink tea, just him. It struck her as odd. Now that she thought about it, everyone got coffee every day, at the same time.

“Is this town cursed?” Emma asked hesitantly.

It wasn’t like she really believed it could be cursed, but it got Gold to stop abruptly and look up with a gleam in his eyes. He seemed to think for a moment before making a decision.

“Do you really want an answer to that?” Gold narrowed his eyes.

Emma thought for a moment and nodded as a slow smile spread across his face. He let his gold tooth show for a moment before answering. 

“Yes,” Gold said evenly.

“You’re insane,” Emma said incredulously.

“Beside the point,” he sighed.

“Are you being serious?” Emma huffed.

“Do you want an answer to  _ that _ ?” Gold leveled her with a glare.

Emma bit her lip as she pondered his question. He was insane. Or maybe he was just joking with her. She had Kathryn, David, Regina, and Mary Margaret to worry about, she didn’t need Gold too.

“No, I suppose I don’t,” Emma sighed.

“Having a bad day?” Gold asked softly as Ruby brought him his cup.

“Why do you drink your tea from a to-go cup?” Emma scrutinized the plastic lid.

“Oh, we’re still playing that game,” Gold smirked, “I just like these more than the mugs. I can leave at any time without worry, and the tea shan’t spill on me.”

“Hmm. Yes, bad night actually,” Emma nodded sadly as she sipped her coffee.

She took a big bite out of her muffin and frowned at her empty cup. She needed five more cups of coffee before she could be considered more alive than a zombie. When she looked up at Gold, he had an understanding, and almost tender, smile gracing his lips. Though it was quickly replaced with a taunting smirk, just for a second, Emma felt like he understood. At the moment, Emma had a kid who depended on her, one friend, someone fighting tooth and nail against her, and the surrounding crowd of people who always chose an unclear side. It felt like it was the world against her, and maybe, just maybe, he knew what that felt like too. That would be ridiculous though. The world was against him, or at least Storybrooke was, and he just let it slide off his shoulders.

“Miss Lucas, could we get the sheriff chocolate with cinnamon?” Mr. Gold asked, though it was a clear order.

The waitress scurried off to do as she was told. Emma just stared at him angrily. He was always so annoying, just assuming what she wanted. Though, it did sound good; but she would never admit that.

“I don’t have that much money, and everything here is expensive. It’s almost rent day, and you’re a grumpy old dragon that guards his treasure by milking the money from everyone in town!” Emma complained.

“Relax, Miss Swan, I’m being a  _ voluntary _ gentleman this time and paying,” he smiled behind his tea while he took another small sip.

Emma just stared at him. He never made sense. Was he on her side, or against her? Was he an arse, or a gentleman?  _ Did he drink tea, or coffee? _

“What happened last night to make it so tedious?” Gold asked curiously.

She really didn’t want to talk about it, so she just indifferently asked, “Did you ever have a child?” 

She only meant to divert his question, but she immediately felt horrible. With one question, the most infamous, hated man in Storybrooke fell. His face became shadowed and he seemed to fold in on himself. His eyes looked nearly black while he clenched his jaw and held his mouth in the straightest line she had ever seen. In a flash, though, his face was impassive and nonchalant once again. Calm, collected Mr. Gold who had no emotions and fit into everyone's description of a monster.

“When did you start making deals?” Emma tried again.

“How old were you during your first kiss?” Gold asked with a smirk.

Emma nodded to him. She would answer that rather personal question, despite how odd it was. Why would he want to know these things?

“Many, many. . . decades ago, soon after I first gained enough power to be feared,” Gold looked like he was trying to phrase it in a logical way.

Emma watched him as he thought over his sentence. The way he paused before ‘decades’ made her want to shout “lie”, but he seemed to be telling the truth, just not the whole truth.

“I was seventeen. He was my first boyfriend,” Emma scowled as Ruby set the hot chocolate down on the table.

A sudden thought struck Emma. Who did Mr. Gold kiss? She had never seen him with a woman - or a man - as long as she had been in town. She made a metal note to ask Ruby later.

“Have you ever slept with Regina?” Emma blurted.

“Oh, hell no!” Gold seemed offended.

“That’s the first time I’ve heard you cuss,” she observed.

“‘Hell’ is not an expletive, it is a destination,” he corrected.

“Whatever,” Emma mumbled.

“What was your major in college?” Gold asked.

“I-I didn’t go to college,” Emma's face turned bright red, but she didn’t break eye contact.

“Don’t feel embarrassed, my dear, I did not attend college either,” his lip twitched up in an almost-smile.

“What?!” Emma couldn’t believe  _ that _ . He was rich after all!

“You heard exactly what I said, dearie,” he frowned at her reaction.

Emma narrowed her eyes at him. He only used ‘dearie’ when he was defensive or distant. She figured she had been covering ground when he started using ‘my dear’ instead. What was she trying to make ground on anyway? Nothing, that’s what.

“How many times have you been in love?” Gold raised an eyebrow.

“Ditto,  _ Weaver _ ,” Emma used his name, just to be annoying.

Ignoring her jab, though, he instead furrowed his brow in confusion. She just stared at him as he tilted his head, seemingly to think about something. He looked like he was searching for something important as he stared at the table.

“Ditto?” Gold repeated questioningly.

“It means, like. . . that I’m saying the same thing,” Emma clarified while giving him a weird look.

“They have such odd sayings here,” he mumbled to himself.

“Excuse me?” Emma asked, though she heard what he said.

“Nothing of importance,” Gold shook his head.

He looked at her questioningly, waiting for her to answer the question. She felt more like what he meant to say was ‘Have you  _ ever _ been in love?’ instead of the number of times. He seemed far too interested in her personal life; but he was willing to answer the same thing.

“Just once,” Emma whispered wistfully.

“I have been in love thrice,” Gold smiled sadly, with so much longing and sadness.

“You’ve been in love?” Emma asked incredulously.

“Is it really so hard to believe that I once had a heart to gift to another?” he frowned in inquiration.

“A little, yah,” she answered, almost sheepishly.

“Hmm,” was the only response she got.

She looked up at the clock and groaned. Her thirty minutes were up. Emma found it surprising that she was actually. . . mildly disappointed, to be out of Gold’s presence. She had to go back to work, though. Or maybe she could stay, five more minutes?

“Well, Miss Swan, it has been a pleasure, but I must go. Have a grand day,” Gold smiled.

As he got up, he dropped something on the table before he turned and left. He had given her a newspaper and left a few tens on the table. She folded the newspaper over to read it, though there probably wasn’t anything interesting. Just then, the bell rang again, and Mary Margaret walked in. Emma was only half paying attention to the Miner’s Day speech, or whatever it was, but when Leroy bumped into Mary, the woman seemed almost in tears. When the schoolteacher left the building, Emma threw the newspaper down and followed her friend. It was going to be a long day.

-S. Hanson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm open to suggestions or prompts for this story and any other. Thank you for reading!


	5. Dance With Me?

Regina was a pest, Mary Margaret was a wreck, Henry was her shadow, and Gold. . . well, at this point, Gold was the thing tying her to the ground so she wouldn’t float into insanity. Those phone records mocked her, telling her a story she didn’t believe. Throughout her life, Emma had met a lot of people. The more people she met, the fewer she trusted. People would lie, cheat, steal, kidnap, and kill for many things if they were desperate enough. After a while, Emma realised that her gut was the only thing she could trust; her gut and her eyes. If she could touch something, it was real. If she could taste something, it was real. If someone wasn’t lying, they were telling the truth, even if it wasn’t the whole truth. Regina wanted her to solve this case, which meant there was something to solve; but what was she really supposed to be solving? Emma really could arrest David just on the basis that he lied to the sheriff about information regarding a developing case, but she didn’t think he was lying. Perhaps David really didn’t remember what happened. 

With an aching head, Emma got in her yellow bug and drove to Granny’s. After slight hesitation, Emma ordered two cheeseburgers, a coffee, and an iced tea. Ruby smiled at her and bobbed her eyebrows suggestively when the waitress dropped the bag in front of Emma.

“Mr. Gold’s shop is just a block that way,” Ruby stuck her thumb over her shoulder. 

“Yes. I know,” Emma growled in annoyance.

“He never eats lunch, just works all day,” Ruby leaned in.

“Sounds like him,” Emma agreed with an aggravated huff.

“I’m sure he would appreciate a  _ pick me up _ ,” the brunette winked.

Emma rolled her eyes and walked out of the diner with minimal struggle at the door. She set everything in the passenger seat and drove over to the plain, little pawnshop.

“Two times in one day. Finding me more enjoyable then you let on, Miss Swan?” Gold looked up from the ledger he was writing in.

“I asked Regina, but she was too busy for lunch,” Emma smirked.

“Regina? Should I be worried the food is poisoned?” Gold peeked into the bag that she set in front of him.

“Maybe.”

“Oh, and you brought iced tea. To mask the taste of the poison?”

“Would that even work?”

“Depends on what you put in the tea.”

Gold grabbed the bag in his left hand and his cane in his right. As he walked briskly to the back room, he motioned for Emma to follow. She grabbed the drinks and followed closely behind him. The back of his shop was messy in the most organized kind of way. There was a workbench in the middle of the room, nearly hidden by all the clutter. There was also a bed and a couch.

“What do you need a bed for?” Emma raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

“What do  _ you _ think I need a bed for?” Gold shot back.

“How many people have you. . .?” Emma made a rather suggestive hand gesture towards the bed.

“It depends how this visit ends,” Gold smirked.

“In your dreams,” Emma mumbled.

“The ones during the day, or the ones during the night?” Gold asked coyly.

Emma snorted, “What’s the difference? The people?”

“No, dearie, the person is consistent in all of my dreams,” Gold’s smirk grew until it was almost cat-like, “The difference is the context. . . and the position.”

“You’re disgusting,” Emma scowled at him.

“No, it’s actually quite enjoyable,” Gold sat down on the couch and unpacked the food.

Despite everything, when Emma followed Gold’s gaze to the handcuffs at her belt, she blushed. There were so many things you could do with handcuffs, and if he had some whipped cream in that mini fridge. . .

“Are you alright, my dear? You look flushed,” Gold observed calmly.

“I’m fine,” Emma breathed.

She took a seat on the couch, completely pressed against the arm of it. Gold quirked the corner of his mouth, but didn’t say anything about the three feet between them. He handed her the coffee and one of the cheeseburgers, making sure to brush his fingers against hers. She felt a chill go down her spine; whether it was because of the contact, or the way he looked at her, she didn’t know.

“Hope you’re hungry,” Emma said meekly.

“Starving,” Gold grinned, though his eyes never deviated from her own.

She wanted to look down, but she didn’t want to lose this little contest between them. He was staring her down, and she wouldn’t look away. Emma wasn’t sure when something so mundane as looking at each other became a competition, but she would not let him win. Gold’s tongue came out to lick his lips, and despite herself, she looked down. Her eyes followed his tongue’s movement as it drew over the line of his lips, which were curling into yet another smirk.

“How are things going as sheriff?” Gold, much to her relief, broke the silence.

“Eh, it’s new,” when Gold stared at her, expecting more, she continued, “And I can be flexible.”

When his smirk stretched, she nearly slapped herself, or maybe him. Everything she said sounded like something she didn’t want to say, at least not to him. He unwrapped his burger and took a bite of it carefully. The man looked like he was strategically planning the best way to avoid getting grease on his Armani suit.

“How’s Henry?” Gold persisted as Emma unwrapped her own burger.

She took a much,  _ much _ messier bite before replying, “Persistently begging me to send Snow White and Prince Charming a bottle of wine to celebrate their new found love.”

Emma didn’t really think about what she said until she was taking another bite. Gold didn’t even seem slightly confused when she said that. He gave no indication that she had mentioned something strange at all. Henry never talked to Mr. Gold, how could he know who she was talking about? But he knew about the curse. The curse? There was no curse. There were no fairy tale people. She wasn’t the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. Was she? What the hell?!

“What’s wrong, my dear?” Gold brushed his fingers against her shoulder before pulling back.

Had she said that out loud? “So many things.”

“Tell me,” Gold finished his burger and licked his fingers, leaning back.

Emma took a deep breath. She couldn’t trust him. . . but she could. He found loopholes, but he never broke deals. He hadn’t ever gone back on his word, supposedly. He always helped her, she just didn’t like the way he helped her.

“I-I’m not supposed to talk about ongoing investigations,” Emma bit her lip.

“Then don’t talk about ongoing investigations. Talk about what’s bothering you,” Gold reached out, as if he wanted to touch her, maybe hold her hand, but then pulled back abruptly as if something had burned him.

“There’s. . .  _ something _ , I found, and it tells me one thing, but I don’t believe it,” Gold nodded for her to continue, “I could arrest someone based on the information, but I don’t think they did anything. I don’t even think Regina wants me to arrest this person. It’s the only lead I have, and if I follow it, I think I’ll be falling into a trap. Regina wants me to do something, but I don’t know what. I think she’s behind this, but I have no proof. I need to do something, but if I do, then I could be doing the wrong something.”

“If I give you advice, will you take it?” Gold raised an eyebrow.

Emma thought for a moment, “What’s the advice?”

“Follow the lead. If you  _ can _ arrest someone, arrest them. You don’t have to hold them for long, just make them sweat. People slip up when they’re under pressure. Afterward, you can tell how much you screwed up based on how wide Regina’s smile stretches,” Gold took a sip of his tea.

“That’s- that’s actually not bad advice,” Emma looked shocked.

Gold brought his hand to his chest, where most people’s hearts would be, “Your surprise wounds me, Miss Swan.”

“You’ll live,” Emma threw her wrapper into the trash can and sipped her coffee, “Were you planning on going to the Miner’s Day festival?”

“Were you?”

“I have to arrest someone. So, yes.”

“I wasn’t. . . but if someone saved me a dance?”

Emma looked him straight in the eyes, dead serious. Did he really just ask her that? Gold, the most feared, infamous, lethal man in all of Storybrooke. . . asked her to dance. Could he even dance with a crippled leg? In front of people? With the town’s news team surrounding them asking them when they would get married and make little Golds?

“Maybe stick with your dreams, Gold. They don’t step on toes,” Emma suggested.

“I’d rather have the real thing, clumsiness and all,” Gold gave her a very, very small smirk.

“I’ve never danced before,” Emma confessed.

“I can teach you,” he offered.

Emma thought for a moment, “I have someone to arrest.”

She got up, threw her coffee cup in the trash, and walked past the curtain into the shop. She could hear the tap, step of Gold following her. Couldn’t he take a hint? She had somewhere to be, and she had to arrest someone.

“Shall I go to the festival, or would it be a waste of time?” Gold prodded gently.

“Go if you want, but I hope you have a backup dance partner,” Emma didn’t look back at his disappointed face as she walked through the door.

“I don’t, but I can wait,” she heard Gold whisper before she stepped out into the cool air of the evening.

She almost felt guilty. Hell, maybe she  _ did _ feel guilty. He had given her great advice, and then she had blown him off. He only wanted a dance, just a dance. Emma didn’t know whether she regretted walking out or not, but she would find out. Maybe she would go to the Miner’s Day festival, just to see if he waited for her, or maybe she wouldn’t. She needed to arrest David.

-S. Hanson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should there be a dance?


	6. In A Heartbeat

Emma sighed, running her hand over her face in exhaustion. David was telling the truth, he had to be. There was no way  _ that  _ lie was planned material, it was just horrible. He didn’t seem like a killer, anyways, he was too jumpy. Mary Margaret would be relieved that her on-off boyfriend was innocent, but for now, that just meant Emma’s best lead was useless. It couldn’t have been Mary, it wasn’t David; that left very few people. She just had a  _ feeling _ that Regina was behind this. Why? Emma wasn’t sure, but she would bet her bug it had something to do with her. Regina was always trying to get to her, one way or another. She needed a break, and maybe a drink.

Getting up, Emma grabbed her keys off her desk and strode out of the station, intent on going home. She had seen Mary Margaret at the festival, which meant she would have to relay the information that David was innocent since Mary had seen her ‘arrest’ him. The lights still hadn’t come back on after they mysteriously went out while she was talking to David, so she hit several walls on her way out, imagining that Mary’s apartment would be just as dark and gloomy. A long night that was doomed to get even longer. Yay. And then there was Gold. Her enemy/ally/advice giver that could never pick a side. Actually, now that she thought about it, he did pick a side; he always picked her side. He had told her that many times, but she never really believed him. The favor she owed him made her anxious, and the answer she owed him even moreso. It was like he took her worldview, ripped it up, put it back together the wrong way, and then told her it had been broken all along, like he was doing her a favor. The smug jerk.

Though she may or may not have had something against him, she did owe him at least a thanks. Much of her success in Storybrooke was due to his quiet, guiding hand. She may never admit it, but she was thankful. A little bit. She still didn’t want to look at his arrogant, stupid-arse face, but if she owed him a thank you, she might as well give him a dance. Part of her believed that he just wanted to take her out in public so that he could show her off, then reject her. Good thing she didn’t care what he thought of her. She had met people like that before, men who just wanted to say ‘look what I can get, still not good enough.’ Well, she wasn’t going through that, not with him. Because she didn’t care. Because he didn’t mean anything to her.

Jumping in her yellow chariot, Emma took a deep breath and made her decision. Taking on a monster was certainly not for the faint of heart, but a challenge had never scared her, and it most definitely would not now. Maybe she was doing it just to prove to him that she wouldn’t back down, but that was her business, not his. She backed out of the parking lot and headed to the festival. The clock in her car read one forty-two, and the sky confirmed the time with its dark face and twinkling stars. Emma allowed herself a smile over the fact that he probably left hours ago, or never came at all. The festival probably wasn’t even still set up. As nice as Storybrooke was, its nightlife consisted of a hot chocolate at Granny’s and a shabby bar called the ‘Rabbit Hole.’

She parked her car just outside of the empty court where lights and people had been wandering about hours earlier. There were no more lights, the tents were empty, and the trash cans were full of wrappers and uneaten food, making the place look like an abandoned teen hangout, eerily similar to some of the places she had stayed when she was younger. Emma almost drove away, but she decided that maybe sitting in one of the benches and basking in the silence and cool night air would be nice. She put the bug in ‘park’ and got out, locking the doors behind her; not necessary, but a habit just the same.

After walking around for a few minutes, Emma saw something in the distance. Running her hand over the waistband of her pants to make sure her gun was where it should be, she headed over in the direction she had seen two small lights. As she got closer to the center of the court, she heard soft, even music drifting through the air, like it had all the time in the world. She could just barely make out the figure that the two small lights were illuminating: someone sitting alone on one of the benches. It looked like a male, average height, slim, with long hair. Emma’s hand fell away from her gun when she realized who it was.

“You waited,” she said quietly.

Gold stood, leaving his cane leaning against the bench, “Indeed. I told you I would, did I not?”

“I figured you would have left by now,” Emma murmured, trying her best to mask her surprise at seeing him there at all.

“I can be patient when there is something I want, Miss Swan,” Gold said, his smirk practically tangible in the restful silence.

Hesitantly stepping forward, Emma asked cautiously, “And what is it you want?”

“Just a dance.”

Gold’s first two steps towards her were slow as he tried to right his gait without a cane to lean on, but he corrected it quickly and walked to her swiftly and, yet again, silently. If she believed in that sort of stuff, she might even think he was gliding just above the ground. The music was still playing, rhythmic and mellow, as he stretched his hand out to her with barely noticeable trepidation. Emma took it uncertainly, not really knowing what to do next. He slid his hand along hers until their position was to his liking, placing her free hand on his shoulder, and tentatively placing his own free hand upon her hip. She nearly flinched away, but the fact that he felt as nervous as she did made her feel more comfortable, even just slightly so. She could feel how tense his muscles were under her fingers, and it made her want to squeeze his shoulder to loosen it a little, but her hand stayed only loosely held in place. He stepped deftly to the left, urging her to follow his movements. She tried her best, stepping as he did, letting him nudge her foot into place. He repeated the motion, and again, she followed to the best of her abilities. Gold seemed to be completely ignoring his leg as he guided her along, the music playing calmly in the air. They went in circles, keeping it simple, and yet doing it with him felt so elegant. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, catching the faint scent of something crisp and spicy. It was nice, not even close to overpowering, and the wind carded through her hair methodically. For just a minute, with her eyes closed and her feet occupied, she felt like a princess. She felt like the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming being twirled around an extravagant ball room in a castle fit for fairy tales. She opened her eyes and let that dream melt away, though. She wasn’t in the arms of a dashing, strong, noble prince who was planning on whisking her away to a kingdom of his own. No, she was in the arms of a charismatic, two-tongued, vicious beast who was waiting to steal her deep into his lair. She wasn’t in a charming castle, but a cruel mockery of a perfect town. She wasn’t a princess, she was just a girl who was lost and was too afraid to admit it. Lost little girls always turned to monsters for help because the smiles and touches were so cunningly caring. She wasn’t with Graham, as she wished she was; she was with Gold, a hollow substitute for who she dreamed she could have.

Breaking away quickly, Emma backed up as far as she could, nearly tripping over herself. Gold stumbled, but quickly gained balance again. He gave her a confused look, looking around as though she had been stung by something.

“Miss Swan, did I hurt you?” Gold raised a questioning brow.

“No, no, but I - I need to leave,” Emma breathed, “Thank you, for the advice, really, but I have to go.”

“Did I do something wrong?” Gold looked almost hurt at her sudden dismissal of him.

“No, it’s not you, it’s just that you’re not. . .” Emma was glad that the night covered her blush.

“I’m not Graham,” he finished in a whisper.

This time, Emma could plainly see the hurt in his eyes, but his features hardened so fast her head spun, and he was Mr. Gold again. The lines of rejection smoothed into an indifferent sneer as he bared his teeth in a feral smile. He looked predatory with the two candles - one presumably for her - casting daunting light on his animalistic features.

“Why trade a hunter for a spinner, right?” Gold hissed manically.

“W-What?” Emma stuttered in confusion.

“I suppose it’s foolish to think I would be anything but a downgrade, yes?” he  _ smirked _ like this was a sick game, and he was about to take her piece off the board.

“That’s - that’s not what I meant-” she tried, but he cut her off.

“That is what you meant, dearie, but I was under no illusions. I know you would trade me for him in. . . well, in a heartbeat,” Gold smiled at his quip, not quite amused with himself, but perhaps poking for a reaction. 

“That’s not fair,” Emma’s voice wavered as he stepped closer to her.

“Oh, it’s not fair, is it?” Gold snarled, “Not fair that he’s dead? Or that you had to watch it?”

“Shut up,” Emma whispered.

“Why? Because you don’t want to think about it?” he smirked, “Because every night your bed is cold, you can’t help but think that it’s the same temperature as his  _ body _ ?”

“Shut up!” Emma pushed him, making him stumble backwards.

He scowled, but didn’t pursue her when she ran away, to the safety of her car. She heard the sound of wood cracking against wood somewhere behind her as hot tears slid down her face. She only stopped when she was in her car, panting and sobbing and angry. She hit the wheel again and again until her head was resting against it in resignation. He was dead. He was gone. She was alone. . . in a heartbeat.

\- S. Hanson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worry not! An apology from Gold is coming. . . maybe. Please tell me what you thought. :}


	7. Holding a Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me so long, but I've been slowly moving myself off canon. After this chapter, many things are going to differ from the show. I hope you enjoy!

Emma stared at the ceiling all morning, which really was only two hours. By the time five came, she felt restless and worn, unable to focus on anything important. It was the fault of no one but Gold. She was sure it was wrong to pray for someone to go to hell, but next time she saw Mother Superior, she would ask the nun to put in a word for her. Where did Gold get off with the right to even  _ speak _ Graham’s name? Emma wasn’t sure what would have come of her relationship with the former sheriff, but it could have been love, she knew that. One kiss, and he was gone. That spark, that brilliant, all-consuming, eye-opening flash of recognition, that was all it took for him to be that much brighter; then that star was snuffed out by the darkness. A heart attack. That was it. No one to hurt for a murder, nothing to blame for the loss, not even herself. All she could do was scream at the sky and ask questions that would never have answers. In a world so horribly unforgiving, you would think heroes would have the right of way, but it was just the opposite. The best were always the first to fall in a long war. And Graham had most certainly been the best. Who was next, Mary Margaret? Who would stand in the way of her battle against Regina and die? Graham’s death had been out of her control, but that didn’t mean Kathryn’s or anyone else’s would be. Who next? Kathryn might still be alive, but she wouldn’t know unless she cracked the case.

Getting out of her bed with a firm determination, Emma dragged herself downstairs. Mary Margaret wasn’t up yet and probably wouldn’t be for at least another hour. Walking through the kitchen, all the reds and greens burned her eyes. Mary was more into festivities than was healthy. The whole loft was decked out in Christmas. . . well, everything. The only way Emma had gotten her friend to stop shopping was by reminding her that they had the worst, most strict landlord in existence. That meant they had to skip buying coffee for the apartment; Granny’s only.

Grabbing her keys after taking a shower, Emma threw on her jacket and trudged down the stairs to her waiting Bug. It was now six thirty-two, plenty of time to grab a coffee at the diner and make it to the station an hour early. Regina definitely wouldn’t be able to say anything about her commitment now, that was for sure.

When she reached the diner, her eyes were only slightly more focused than they were when she woke up. Emma groped for the handle of the door and then drooped into a stool at the bar. There were seven other people in the diner: Mother Superior waiting for her coffee or tea or whatever, a little girl and boy sitting in the middle booth behind her, a couple chatting away blissfully before work, and two large men clad in plaid in the corner booth talking about a nice deal they got on something or other.

Emma looked up to find Ruby and spotted the waitress talking to the couple, “ -azy don’t you think? Vandalism? Here?”

“Y’know, vandalism is a crime I can bring people in for. Was it Leroy again? I don’t even want to think about what he did to the water fountain the last time I picked him up,” Emma grimaced.

“I don’t think it was Leroy this time,” Ruby mused as she drifted closer to the sheriff, “It just looked like someone smashed something. I saw it when Granny signed me up for the clean up crew. One of the wooden tables, I think.”

“Hmm. Anyone really worried about it?” Emma inquired.

Ruby looked thoughtful for a second, “No, I don’t think anyone really cared. It happened after the festival, so no one knows who did it.”

The waitress shrugged and readied her pen and pad for Emma’s order. She asked for a coffee and muffin, just like she usually did. Her eyes kept straying back to the two children happily talking and laughing behind her. The couple seemed oblivious to them, and the men certainly didn’t know them. Maybe they were just getting some hot chocolate before school.

“They’re here every morning,” Emma jumped when Mother Superior spoke.

The nun had come closer, also observing the children. She looked as though she was worried, but there was something slightly off about it. Her face was pinched in something akin to empathy, but her eyes rang out with indifference. Emma didn’t have anything against them, but she didn’t really trust nuns; it was just a feeling she got.

“I was hoping you would pray about something for me,” Emma directed the nun’s attention to her, “‘Cause of, you know, you’re special connection to. . . Jesus.”

“What would you like to pray about, child?” Mother Superior asked politely, making Emma cringe.

“For God to make a special place in hell for Gold.”

Emma thought she heard something like “there’s already one” but she couldn’t be sure. The nun looked away quickly like she might ask for Emma not to tell God she said that. The sheriff smirked, suddenly thinking about Gold in church, praying not to be burned at the stake by angry tenants. If he ever set foot in a church, holy lightning would probably descend from the heavens and strike his horn-laden head. No one could be a more accurate devil than him. Her fingers started tapping against the bar involuntarily as she began humming.  _ The devil went down to Storybrooke, ‘cause he was looking for a soul to steal, many desperate souls he hooked, and all of ‘em wanted a deal. _

“Here you go,” Ruby handed Mother Superior a to-go cup with a smile.

“Thank you,” the nun muttered and then hurried out of the diner.

“With the way she runs, you’d think the devil’s after her,” the waitress cocked her head to the side.

“Depends which devil you believe in,” Emma muttered.

Surprisingly, Ruby actually heard what she said, “Yah, lucky we raised enough money, or the Gimpy Imp would be cackling right now.”

“Regina cackles, I think Gold would be more of an evil giggler,” Emma snorted.

“A giggler? I’d like to see a video of that,” Ruby laughed, then they both cringed, “Never mind.”

“So. . . the kids come here every morning?” Emma stuck a thumb over her shoulder.

“Yup. From six twenty to seven, like clockwork,” the waitress nodded.

Emma bit her cheek, “And they never have an adult with them?”

“Nope. They eat their bagels and leave for school. I think they’re in Mary’s class. Maybe Henry knows them,” Ruby shrugged.

“Huh,” Emma pursed her lips in thought.

She watched the kids get up and head for the door. The boy went back for one more sip of his chocolate and the girl said “come on, Chip” before hurrying out the door. The boy - Chip? - raced after her with a silly grin. They appeared alright, but Emma didn’t want another Ava and Nicholas situation.

“How are things with Gold?” Ruby slid the sheriff’s coffee across the counter.

“What ‘things’?” Emma growled defensively.

“Woah, down girl. Maybe have some coffee first,” the waitress grinned.

Emma scowled, but took a sip of her coffee. It burned down her throat, effectively waking her up. Two more cups, and perhaps her brain would kick into gear. She closed her eyes and thought about how her day was going to go. Her leads were down to none, and the longer she took, the less chance Kathryn would be breathing when she was found.

Opening her eyes slowly, she saw Ruby still staring at her expectantly with a predatory smirk. That girl needed less caffeine and more clothes. Emma would swear on her love of coffee that Whale came into the diner just to admire the view, and she wasn’t thinking of the adorable little bushes outside.

“There are no ‘things’ with Gold. We just have. . . a deal,” Emma sighed.

“Is it a  _ give and take _ deal?” Ruby bobbed her eyebrows, just like she did every time.

“If it’s me giving him a punch and him taking the hit, then that is definitely the deal I want with him,” the sheriff took another sip of her coffee.

“Come on, he can’t be all bad. As much as I hate him, no one can deny he wears those suits better than anyone. And people call me obscene. Have you seen the way he tailors his pants to hug his-”

“Ruby! I do not need to know what you’re staring at while he’s ruthlessly collecting your rent!”

“Okay, okay. What about that breakfast you had with him?” Ruby smiled.

“Just asking him questions,” Emma explained easily.

“M-hmm,” the waitress nodded.

“What about you? Got anyone special?” Emma diverted the conversation to a safer plane: one of Ruby’s many suitors.

“I’ve had my eyes on the Stranger,” Ruby gave her a sultry smirk, like she was practicing.

“Oh, you mean the mysterious, hunk-of-metal-riding visitor?” Emma raised her brows curiously.

“Oh, you’ve met him!” Ruby jumped a little.

_ ‘Yah, he took me on a well water-drinking date,’ _ was on the tip of Emma’s tongue, but she didn’t want to burst Ruby’s bubble. The waitress might start spitting in her coffee if she wasn’t careful.

“Yup, mysterious writer. A bundle of stubble named August Booth,” Emma nodded tiredly.

“Mmm,” Ruby hummed wistfully, “I can’t wait to get my hands on him.”

“Good luck,” Emma huffed, “I need to get down to the station.”

Ruby confusedly looked at the clock behind her, “No, you don’t, it’s only seven o’six. You only have to be at the station by eight.”

Emma was a little curious at how the waitress knew that, but decided to let it go, “I wanted to get an early start for today.”

“Kathryn Nolan case?” Ruby nodded solemnly like she already knew.

The sheriff sighed, “That’s the one.”

“Any leads?” Ruby seemed to come alive with a new light at the prospect of fresh gossip.

“I’m sorry, but since it’s an ongoing investigation, I can’t disclose any details beside the concrete statement that Kathryn Nolan is missing,” Emma said automatically.

Ruby let her head fall to the side as she surveyed Emma, “Did you practice that in front of a mirror?”

“No.”

Emma slapped some cash on the counter and went to grab her muffin and cup. Ruby snatched the money and handed it back to Emma.

“Someone already paid for you,” Ruby smiled secretively, and then as a second thought, “For every day up to Christmas.”

“Who?” Emma narrowed her eyes.

“They told me not to tell you, but they wanted you to know that you can order whatever you want.”

Emma pursed her lips and accepted the money back from the waitress. She had an idea of who it may be. Walking out to her car, she looked down suspiciously at her muffin; what if it was poisoned? She spent a few seconds debating in her head whether or not she should eat it. Emma finally decided to take a bite; it just looked so good.  _ ‘At least I’ll die happy.’ _

She drove off to the station - in good health - thinking about what Ruby had said. All the way to Christmas. The date was November thirtieth, which meant she now had twenty-five days of free coffee and muffins. Maybe she and Mary Margaret wouldn’t have to worry about rent after all. Perhaps they could just dine at Granny’s every night until Christmas.

After Emma entered the station, muffin and coffee both clutched tightly in her hand, she headed straight to her office, hoping she could find  _ someone _ who knew something about Kathryn’s disappearance. There were only so many places to hide someone in a small town like Storybrooke. However, when she opened her office door and set her breakfast down, she saw several things already laying on her desk. A single black rose sat on top of a red velvet box, a card also propped up on it. Emma reached for the card first, checking for a signature; there was only one question in elegant script:  **Will you punch me, Miss Swan?**

Emma frowned, “Well, you deserve it.”

She suddenly felt stupid for saying that out loud. Who was going to hear her? There really was only one person this could be from, and she didn’t want to see him. It didn’t matter if she hated him before, she  _ really _ hated him now.

“I can’t disagree with you.”

Emma’s back stiffened and she swung around, barely registering a figure before she jabbed at it. There was a grunt of a pain, and whoever she hit stumbled backwards into the wall of her closet-sized office.

The figure groaned in pain, massaging their jaw, “You have a strong right hook. I admire that in a person.”

Emma flicked on her desk lamp to the sight of a smirking Gold. That jerk. She breathed out slowly, barely restraining the urge to bring her hand to her heart; she already knew it was pounding.

“Oops, sorry,” Emma gave him a flat look, “I thought you were someone dangerous.”

Gold pursed his lips and gave a quick nod of his head, pushing off the wall. He used his cane to steady himself before briskly moving to stand next to her. That same damned smirk floated across his features as he stared down at her like a smug hawk, ready to devour its prey in one fell swoop.

Not taking his eyes off of hers, he leaned in until he was only a breath away and reached behind her, “Did you see my rose?”

He twirled it in front of her. The dim light from her lamp highlighted the smooth petals of the dark rose as well as the daunting features of his face. She never really realized how sharp the angles of his face were before now. Even smiling, he looked deadly with that slight quirk of his lips, the leer in his eyes, the mischief radiating off of him. That sharp tongue of his could probably talk a nun into cursing in the name of God. Emma could see straight through his soulful eyes to his mind, and yet she couldn’t learn a single thing about him. She could see him dissecting her, baring her secrets, invading her mind, and yet, she couldn’t truly say she knew anything about the man in front of her.

“I hope you cut your finger on the thorns,” Emma muttered.

She could feel his hot breath on her face, making her nose twitch. It smelled like tea and mint, not unpleasant. Emma observed every twitch of his face as he looked at her. He had his mask firmly in place, not betraying even a bit of emotion.

“The black rose,” Gold held the flower between their bodies, “Symbolizes new beginnings and changes. I would like to apologize for everything I said this morning. Graham was a good man, and I meant neither him, nor you, any disrespect. Sometimes I let my anger get the better of me, and I’m sorry. I would understand if you can’t forgive me, or even give me tolerance this time, but I would appreciate it if you would accept my gifts of apology just the same.”

Emma was momentarily stunned. For just a little while, he let her see into his eyes without a blockade between them. He was truly sorry, really remorseful. He looked sincere, but she had been fooled before. Still trapped between the desk and his body, she couldn’t move away from him like she wanted. Emma swore her heart was pounding hard enough for him to feel, and she needed air.

“Why do you care whether I hate you or not? You don’t care that everyone else in this town hates you,” Emma snapped.

_ ‘Okay, maybe that was a little harsh.’ _ He didn’t even flinch, he simply nodded slowly, like he expected her to say that. He looked like he really wanted to say something else, but couldn’t find the words. Instead of speaking, Gold merely extended the rose to her. Emma just stared at him with tight lips. He, for the first time, broke eye contact with her to look down at the little space between them. Biting the inside of his cheek, he placed the rose back on the desk and picked up the box instead. Finally taking a step away from her, he opened the box, presenting a golden bracelet with a swan engraved into the center of it. It truly was beautiful with the light from her lamp casting off of it onto her skin, painting golden patterns that changed from second to second, shifting and moving along the valleys and creases of her skin. Looking into Gold’s eyes, she saw the pleading in them; he only wanted her to take it. He wasn’t even expecting her to forgive him, he just wanted to apologize. She supposed that maybe that wasn’t so bad.

Emma took a deep breath before grabbing the bracelet, “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry,” Gold repeated before placing the open box on the desk and backing away from her completely.

She snapped the jewelry on her wrist, surprised when it fit perfectly. Then again, Gold was observant; she was sure he would have gotten her jean size right, too. He had a smile toying with the corners of his mouth, but he was fighting it back, trying not to be too hopeful about an accepted apology.

“What you did was pretty crappy,” Emma scowled, “But it took a lot of courage to come back and apologize for it. I can’t say I’ll be able to forgive you for everything - blowing me up was rude - but for this morning, consider yourself pardoned.”

That smile that had been relentlessly sparring with his face finally won over and almost split his face in half. Emma was sure he was five seconds away from throwing his hand in the air and shouting ‘VICTORY FOR SPARTA!’

“Now, don’t get me wrong, you’re still sketchy as hell, and I can’t trust you as far as I can throw you; this does not mean we’re allies. I have a feeling that from now on, several things are going to put us on opposite sides of the law, but this. . . this is nice,” Emma gestured to her desk and her wrist.

Gold nodded in acquiescence, once more pursing his lips, this time in thought. He let a smile flick across his lips again, though this one looked less enthusiastic.

“I hope you find Mrs. Nolan,” Gold tilted his head, “You may not realize it, Sheriff, but Storybrooke is about to become a war zone. Watch your back, and more vitally, the backs of the people you love. In war, love is weakness.”

“Are you threatening me, Gold?” Emma snarled.

“No, Miss Swan, I want to help you. When you need an ally, and eventually you shall, I’ll be waiting,” Gold turned to leave, “Regina doesn’t leave survivors.”

Emma floundered for something to say, at a loss for words. All she could do was watch Gold’s retreating back. She quickly regained composure, intent on asking one more question.

“What did she do to you?”

Gold turned around and shot her a dark look, “She has done many things to many people. It’s not about what she did to me in the past, but about what she shall do to all of us in the future. Mark my words, my dear, there shall be casualties. Keep the people who hold your heart close because whether you believe me or not,  _ she wouldn’t hesitate to take them from you _ .”

And with that, he left.

{[(/*\\)]}

Emma had decided to take a long drive shortly after Gold left. She drove for a while until she found herself at the town line. From there, she figured she would take a walk in the woods. Then, she decided it would be a good idea to look for more clues to Kathryn. It was practically pointless to comb the forest when all the trees stretched for miles. In fact, most of those miles were probably owned by Gold. Maybe he had something to do with Kathryn’s disappearance. Emma certainly wouldn’t put it past him, but the question was  _ why  _ he would do that. He had nothing against Kathryn, and no reason to do something so obvious. She figured that Gold would have done it much more subtly, which brought her back to Regina.

Emma found herself so lost in thought that when she heard something crinkle beneath her boot, she almost didn’t stop. Looking down, she carefully removed her foot from the ground and knelt down. There was an Oreo pack wrapper, smashed into the dirt by a shoe print that was much larger than hers. The sheriff whipped out her phone and snapped a quick picture, looking frantically around for some other clue. There was no sign of a struggle, or even a simple walk in the woods, just a shoe print. It looked to be a few sizes bigger than her boot, definitely a man’s, but who? Gold’s name popped into her head, but he was a thin, slight man; the shoe prints were far too big. One of Regina’s lackeys, perhaps? If she went back to the station, maybe she could look through some files and see if anyone had a record or something the mayor could exploit. Regina had to be behind this, she just had to be.

{[(/*\\)]}

_ ‘Well, that didn’t work out.’ _ Emma sighed as she spoke to Ruby over the phone. After getting back to the station and  _ almost _ being able to eat pre-paid lunch, she was just tired. Mary Margaret had called, Emma had asked for Ruby’s help, and the former waitress had muttered something about lemurs. Now, the sheriff was pacing the waiting room of the hospital while walking someone - practically a teenager - through one of the most important parts of an investigation.

“What do you see?” Emma asked patiently.

_ ‘I see rocks, and leaves, and trees.’ _

She bit her lip to keep from snapping, “I mean, anything  _ out of place _ .”

_ ‘Oh, right, of course. Um, I - wait! I found something!’ _

“Great!” Emma would have jumped up from her seat if she had been sitting, “What is it?”

_ ‘It - It looks like. . . a shirt, maybe? It’s red plaid. Looks kinda like someone tugged it off. The ends are frayed a bit, but it wasn’t cut. I doubt Kathryn was wearing a plaid shirt.’ _

“No, but it sounds like something David would wear,” Emma ran a hand through her hair.

_ ‘David? I thought you gave him the all clear.’ _

“Maybe I was wrong. See anything else worth mentioning?”

_ ‘Nope.’ _

“Did you check under any rocks?”

_ ‘Give me a sec,’  _ Emma heard a grunt,  _ ‘This soil looks disturbed.’ _

Emma smiled at the way Ruby tried to sound professional. The girl lived in a bubble; it seemed like most of Storybrooke did, really. The worst crime ever committed in this town was probably buying pares instead of apples when Regina walked by. She listened for another minute as Ruby complained about getting dirt under her nails before she finally heard a sound of triumph.   
_ ‘I knew it! A box!’ _

“Well, what’s in it?!”

_ ‘Chillax, just give me a moment. It’s a - a-’ _

Emma heard a gasp from the other end of the line. She called the former waitress’s name multiple times but heard nothing except for gagging. Whatever was happening over there, it clearly wasn’t going well.

“Ruby? What’s wrong?”

_ ‘It’s a heart!’ _ Emma heard through a shaky voice and what sounded suspiciously like a sob.

{[(/*\\)]}

He descended the steps carefully, silent as a cat. Quite a day indeed, so many things done, and so many more yet to do. It had been tiring, really, waiting for the Savior to come break the curse. Several times he had woken, each time with a purpose, whatever that had happened to be. Everything he had planned before was hastily reviewed over and over; there wasn’t space for a single miscalculation. That’s why he had to be careful with  _ her _ , the only person beside his son he had room to care about. Miss Swan would certainly make a useful ally, but he had to heed his own warning and make sure to protect his people. If anyone ever found out about  _ her _ . . .

Rumplestiltskin’s cane hit the concrete as he reached the basement, grinning like a maniac.  _ ‘If something tragic were to happen. . .’ _ Yes, very tragic indeed. As long as those two buffoons didn’t mess anything up - if they follow his meticulously crafted plan - everything would be perfect. No room for a single mistake; it had to be spotless. Every bit of evidence would point to Regina when he was done. She wanted Rumplestiltskin? Well, Mr. Gold was never really there, anyway. Sometimes, he thought she knew, but she never did. Twenty eight years. A ‘dearie’ here, a flourish of hands there, an imp that was hiding just beneath the surface. Her Majesty believed it to be just like everyone else’s little curse-given quirks. Ruby’s fascination with red, Mary Margaret’s last name meaning ‘white’, Geppetto’s wood working, the crossbow Granny hid under the floorboards of her inn. . . He moulded the curse, surely she didn’t think he wouldn’t let himself fade through every now and then.

He stepped closer still to the sleeping form, wrapped in blankets for comfort. Perhaps Regina never knew he touched the curse at all. The only work she did was name the town and give a few select people ‘horrible’ fates: the people close to Snow White. He  _ made _ the sorry little town. Every detail had to be planned, and he did. The colors of paint - except, unfortunately for his own house, Regina did that - the monotonous loop that everyone was stuck in, the names, the memories, everything! The curse filled in the blanks Regina asked for: rip the families apart, keep people away from whatever happens to mean the most to them. She lacked the vision of the bigger picture, though. She could either see the horizon or the fine print, but never both at the same time. She projected misery, and the curse did its own work. Snow White, the fairest of them all, lost one of her most beautiful qualities: her hair. Little Red, child of the moon, was forced to walk around in the most uncomfortable shoes, unable to run free. Personally, he thought she got a rather unfair bargain; whether she realized it or not, in the back of her mind, she was thinking of Peter, disgracing his memory every time her lips met another’s. Her virginity, which she had always planned to save for someone she truly loved, was tossed around like a useless sack. Yes, she got more punishment than she ever deserved. Leroy, who prided himself on his work, was too drunk to even see what he was doing half the time. And for him, Regina saved the thin dagger that you would never think would hurt so much, until you were bleeding out. The library: he walked past it every day; it was boarded up and closed, forgotten. Her father’s roses: every shade reminded him of the garden they had grown together behind his castle. Her necklace: a gift from her mother, for years condemned to lay in one of his display cases, gathering dust. Her teacup: it was set, forgotten, in a cabinet he never opened, never letting him trace the delicate ridge that could cut his finger if he pressed just hard enough. Her ring: worst of all, it had been dangling from his neck for years, silently rubbing against the golden spinning wheel charm that his son gave him centuries before. Mr. Gold always wore it, though he never knew why. The times he had been Rumplestiltskin, he had known exactly what it was meant to be. In fact, Regina might not have even done that; he had still been wearing it when the curse struck.

Rumplestiltskin stretched his hand out over the unconscious being before him. A once useless pawn, really a drab girl, now so important on his chess board. The Queen wanted her gone, which meant he needed her here. All he had to do was move his next piece.

“Rest well, Mrs. Nolan. I hope your acting skills are up to par.”

\- S. Hanson


	8. Hope & Faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, wonderful readers! Thank you for all the comments I have received so far, I love hearing - or reading - what you think of the story. I would like to mention two lovely writers - Ravenclaw992 and shalako - because I'm obsessed with reading their stories. Ravenclaw992 is hilarious and has wonderful plot, I would like to suggest them to Golden Swan fans, if you're interested. The other writer, shalako, is amazing at delving into emotions and they always write really deep fictions. I hope you enjoy!

_ Nine years before the Dark Curse struck. . . _

“Go,” Rumplestiltskin commanded, calmly, evenly.

Belle stared at the back of his head. After all they had been through, all the struggles and changes. Every turn had been different: going from a dungeon to a room, from a dreary kitchen to a library, from lonely nights to nights watching him spin. No, she wouldn't go.  _ ‘Do the brave thing, and bravery will follow.’  _ Her mother always taught her that heroes didn’t run from their problems; good people saw past twisted facades to kind interiors. This man wasn’t as much of a beast as he thought, and she would prove it to him.

“No,” Belle stood and walked around to face him.

He didn’t even look down. He just stared right over the top of her head. His face was a blank slate, betraying none of the emotion she had seen when she kissed him.  _ ‘I’m not unhappy. . .’ _

Belle wrapped her hands around his leather lapels, “We can be happy, together. You’re afraid, and that’s okay. Why won’t you just let me get rid of your curse? Why won’t you let yourself be free?”

Rumplestiltskin backed out of her grip, still not looking at her, “It’s simple, really. My power means more to me than you.”

Belle’s lip trembled with a sob that fought to break free. He was pushing her away, but she wouldn’t let him go now. She loved him, and love was worth fighting for, even if it broke her in the end.

“Then I will wait. I promised you forever, and I will wait until that promise is fulfilled. I will wait in this dungeon and starve; I will wait outside and freeze; I will wait anywhere for you, Rumplestiltskin, because I love you, and whether you like it or not, I know you love me,” Belle nodded her head firmly.

For the first time, Rumplestiltskin looked down at her. She saw the swirling emotions on the surface of his eyes. Fear and hesitance warred with love and hope. He was letting his walls stretch high, obscuring her vision of his thoughts. There was a reason he wanted his curse, there had to be. Whatever it was, she would wait for him.

“Why would you wait for a monster?” he growled, “I’m freeing you.”

“And I’m choosing to stay,” Belle locked her jaw with determination.

“Your naivety is impressive, dearie, but that doesn’t change the fact that you must go. Despite what you think, I’m a monster, a beast, and I always shall be,” Rumplestiltskin pursed his lips.

Belle took a deep breath and stepped closer, “Life is made up of small moments that lead to choices. Our choices define us, and our mistakes mould us. Many people think mistakes and choices are the same thing. They’re not, though. If you make a mistake, your choice should be to try to fix it. Agreeing to come with you wasn’t a mistake, but leaving would be. If I left, I can’t say for certain that I would make the choice to come back. So, now, I make the choice to stay so that we never have to find out whether I would find my way back to you or not.”

“Sorry, dearie, but I made a promise,” Rumplestiltskin flicked his wrist.

All of a sudden, the cold enveloped her. She squeaked in surprise as snow covered her body, making her shiver; not that the dungeons had been much warmer. She stood up and tried to shake off all of the snow as it melted into her thin dress. Her arms were bare and exposed to the biting wind, the one thing her cell had actually protected her from. It took only minutes for her teeth to start chattering from the cold, goose flesh raised along her arms under her fingertips as she hugged herself. If he thought this would make her quit, he had another thing coming. Huffing indignantly, she marched up to the large oak doors of the castle and pushed. Usually they would open on their own for anyone who dared seek Rumplestiltskin out, but not this time. Belle leaned on them with all her body weight, but still, they did not budge.

“I know you can hear me!” Belle shouted, smiling at the sense of deja vu, though last time, she had been kidnapped, “I told you I would freeze if that’s what it takes! I’m not going anywhere!”

And with that, she plopped down in the snow and stared fixedly at the double doors. If he wanted to be stubborn, she would be, too. If only she had her books to keep her occupied.

{[(/*\\)]}

_ Storybrooke, approximately thirty-seven years later, November thirtieth. . . _

Emma felt as though she was having an out of body experience as she pushed open the door of the animal shelter. Her brain didn’t quite catch everything that happened, completely in a daze until she was leading Mary Margaret to her Bug in handcuffs. As she slid into the driver’s seat, it finally hit her. She had just arrested her best friend for a murder she couldn’t have committed. It just wasn’t possible. The sweet school teacher who trapped spiders in between a cup and plate so that Emma wouldn’t squish them couldn’t have murdered anyone. 

The betrayal was clear in Mary Margaret’s voice when she finally spoke, “Handcuffs, Emma? Really?”

“I’m sorry,” was all Emma could whisper as she drove them to the station. Such melancholy silence hung in the air as she drove. There was nothing to say, nothing truthful anyway. _ ‘It’s going to be fine’ _ was a load of bull,  _ ‘I’ll get you out of this’  _ was a promise she didn’t know she could keep, and  _ ‘we’ll find a way’ _ just sounded so cold and empty in her head. There was no way around hard evidence. Fingerprints were something she couldn’t ignore, even if she wanted to. There were no lawyers in town for her to call, no way to get her friend out of this. It was inevitable: Mary Margaret was going to jail. Henry would be distraught when he found out that the woman he looked to as his  _ grandmother _ was imprisoned for murder. According to him, she was arresting her own mother. How could she get her friend out of this?

{[(/*\\)]}

“Hey, Mr. Gold,” Henry chirped as he entered the pawnbroker’s shop.

“Hello, Mr. Mills,” Gold smiled cordially.

Henry grinned. Pressing his hand one more time to his pocket, just to make sure his recorder was still there, he moved further into the shop. His book was held tightly in his left hand while his backpack was slung carelessly over his shoulder. He had heard of Snow White’s capture, and now he was going to get his answers.

“What brings you here so early? You should be in school, should you not?” Gold passed him a sly smile as he spoke.

“That’s beside the point. I came for something else,” Henry hummed, trying to sound nonchalant.

“And whatever could that be?” the pawnbroker stopped wiping down the display case.

“That deal you have with my mom, I want to know if it could apply to me, too. Every day, just like her,” Henry tilted his head to the side.

“So you do know about the deal,” Gold nodded, “Here I thought Miss Swan was trying to be secretive about it.”

“I know more than I let on,” Henry smirked.

“Very well. I shall answer  _ some _ of your questions,” he smiled and waved his arm for Henry to start, “I’ll give you. . . three per day.”

“What’s your name?” Henry smiled victoriously.

“Gold.”

“No, your first name,” Henry pouted.

“Is that your second question?” Gold raised his eyebrow inquisitively.

“No. Who made Kathryn disappear?” Henry pursed his lips, “Remember, you have to tell the truth.”

“Regina,” Gold maintained eye contact with him as he let the name slither from his lips.

“I knew it!” Henry jumped up, “Wh- ehem, I, ah, wonder why you don’t just tell Emma.”

Gold laughed lightly, “Nice save. I can’t tell her, because I have no evidence.”

Henry didn’t claim to share his mom’s super power, but he sensed that wasn’t the whole truth. There was some other reason, there had to be. He  _ knew _ Snow White didn’t kill Abigail; she would never do that, not even in competition for her prince. His last question -  _ How did she do it? _ \- died on his lips when he thought of another one. Maybe he could even use the answer to help Snow White feel better.

Henry’s mouth twisted up in thought, “What’s the difference between hope and faith?”

Gold took a moment to think before finally looking at Henry, “Faith is. . . faith is belief based on knowledge. Now don’t get me wrong, faith and belief are also different. They say ‘take a leap of faith,’ but that isn’t particularly hard. Faith stems from something you already know; there should be no leap required. Faith is just the little bit that fills in the gaps of something that you can’t completely and certainly know. Faith is for people who don’t believe.

“Now hope, hope is something else entirely. With hope, your imagination has no bounds. Hope is for people who believe in dreams. Hope is a belief based on nothing but a whim and a chance. Hope is something some people pull out of thin air just so it can push them through difficult times. Hope. . . hope is dangerous at the wrong times, for it can pull you in, intoxicate you with lies; it can also be a strong ally, though. Hope can light up shadows. Hope can cause you to waken up from a despairing sleep. Hope can even bring true families together. Only true believers can keep hope at all times. Hope that things can get better; hope that someone can be saved; hope that battles can be won. In the right hands, hope can be the weapon that wins the war. You have hope, Mr. Mills. Now, you just need to coax Miss Swan out of her faith and give her some hope. It might do her some good.”

As Gold spoke, Henry’s smile grew with every word. There was no way he wasn’t awake.  _ ‘Hope that battles can be won’ _ was surely just code for  _ ‘hope that the Savior can win the Final Battle.’ _ Gold was definitely awake, and he wanted to help Emma win, that much just  _ had _ to be true.

“Thank you, Mr. Gold,” Henry discreetly turned off the recorder, “You see the world with such. . .  _ clarity _ . It’s almost like you know everything.”

“I wouldn’t say  _ everything _ , but tale spinning happens to be one of my talents,” Gold smirked, as if sharing his own private joke.

“Have a good day,” Henry waved.

As Henry walked out, something caught his eye. There, hanging near one of the display cases was the same mobile that Henry had seen in the book. It was the one that had hung over Emma’s crib.

Walking over to it, Henry tapped one of the tiny unicorns. It was mesmerizing, the way it swung in the air, as though galloping.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Gold said from the other end of the shop, “Like a fairy tale.”

Henry turned so quickly, his back popped, “What did you say?”

“Oh, nothing. I just think it’s too bad no one bought it,” Gold really did look sad as he stared at the mobile, “It could have lit up a room. . . once upon a time.”

What Henry saw on Mr. Gold’s face looked almost remorseful. He looked like he was stuck in a memory that was causing him pain. The only reason that mobile was never used was the curse. The curse the queen cast. Why would he have anything to do with it? 

Henry smiled and nodded before dashing out the door. Whoever it was in that shop, they weren’t on the heroes' side. They were someone to fear. Maybe Mr. Gold  _ didn’t _ want Emma to win, after all.

{[(/*\\)]}

Emma sighed and let her head fall against her desk. She had closed her blinds about thirty minutes ago, unable to look at Mary Margaret’s sad puppy face a moment longer. It was always the eyes that she couldn’t say no to. Henry always did it, too. It was just so hard to look at the plea and refuse. She couldn’t even talk to Mary; there was nothing to tell her. She had already spent a night in that dreary little cell, the same one Emma had stayed in, actually. David had been cleared earlier, but he had been no help. Emma had suggested therapy with Archie, which he readily agreed to. It was all just a mess. She needed good advice, but she wasn’t sure who to take it from. Gold had been the most helpful so far, but she hadn’t seen him since his apology. 

Suddenly, hurried footsteps echoed down the hall of the station. Emma’s head popped up off her desk and turned to look at the clock. It was four o’two, which meant. . .

“Ms. Blanchard!” Henry was out of school.

A smile slid across Emma’s face as she slid out of her seat and opened the door of her office. Henry was attempting to hug Mary Margaret through the bars, which probably wasn’t allowed, but the school teacher was smiling brightly enough to lighten up the cell. Henry looked at her with  _ the eyes _ and she decided not to say anything; it was just a hug.

“I have something for you,” Henry declared proudly a few moments later.

He pulled something out of his pocket and pushed a button. Emma was surprised to hear Gold’s silvery brogue suddenly floating through the air. She wasn’t quite sure where or when he made that, but he was giving both women a hundred-watt smile as it played.

_ Faith stems from something you already know. . . _

_ Faith is for people who don’t believe. . . _

_ With hope, your imagination had no bounds. . . _

_ Hope is for people who believe in dreams. . . _

Emma listened as Gold aptly explained the differences. Mary Margaret seemed enraptured with the speech, perhaps even gaining a little hope of her own. Emma snorted as the recording ended with  _ ‘It might do her some good.’  _ Henry grinned up at her with that mischievous spark in his eyes that clearly said  _ ‘Mr. Gold is on my side.’ _ What they said was true: to get to the parent, you go through the kid. That jerk.

“I have  _ hope _ everything will be okay, Ms. Blanchard,” Henry beamed up at her.

“Thank you, Henry,” Mary said, looking as though she would cry.

“I believe in you,” Henry stated firmly.

Emma put her hand on Henry’s shoulder, “So do I.”

“Does that mean you finally have room for a little hope, Miss Swan?”

Emma jerked around to see Gold smirking. He moved out of the hallway's entrance and made his way toward her. His eyes never once left hers as he crept toward her like a predator.

“Why are you here?” Emma narrowed her eyes.

“No need to be hostile, Sheriff. I’m merely here to offer my legal services,” Gold cocked his head.

“No. There is no way you are a lawyer now, too. Is there anything you don’t do?” Emma scowled.

Gold matched her scowl with a wry grin, “You.”

Emma’s mouth hung open and she looked at Henry, who appeared rather confused by that confession. 

“Henry, why don’t you go wait in the hall?” Emma smiled tightly.

“Sure,” he skipped off to wait for her.

“I’m not the ice cream man, either,” Gold frowned.

“You are not defending Mary Margaret. No way,” Emma crossed her arms.

“No offence, Miss Swan, but I believe that’s for Miss Blanchard to decide,” he turned to face the cell.

“Emma, we can’t do this alone, we need help,” Mary Margaret rushed.

“But  _ him _ ? There is no way in hell he’s looking out for your best interests,” Emma hissed.

“He’s the only lawyer in town. Emma, please,” Mary Margaret pleaded.

Emma turned back to Gold, “You always have another agenda. I swear, if you let her get caught up in whatever this one is, I will gut you.”

Gold gave her a cocky smirk, “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

“Please leave,” Mary Margaret sighed from her cell.

“ _ Thank you _ ,” Emma smiled and looked at Gold, “You heard her. Beat it.”

“A-Actually, I was talking to you,” the school teacher said meekly from her cell.

Emma huffed, giving Gold one last death stare, “Fine.”

{[(/*\\)]}

After Emma left the room, Mary Margaret stared sullenly at Mr. Gold. If he was her only choice, she really had hit rock bottom. She couldn’t even look him in the eyes when she spoke to him.

“I-I don’t have any way to pay you,” she whispered.

“That’s okay, dearie. Let’s just say. . . I’m invested in your future,” Gold smiled down at her.


	9. Savior

_ Nine years before the Dark Curse struck. . . _

Belle’s lips were probably blue by this point, cold as they were. In fact, that was all she could feel: cold. Almost her entire body was numb, and she had this unexplainable urge to pull her clothes off and go to sleep. Sure she was cold, but she also felt hot as sweat trickled down her back. She had read about this in her books; they called it hypothermia. Supposedly, the name had come from a doctor traveling worlds, so who knew which world the name came from? Normally she would care - after all, knowledge was important - but not now. Now, she was cold and hungry and tired. Now, her True Love was probably sitting at his spinning wheel and forgetting about her. He most likely didn’t think she was even near his castle any more. She wanted to scream, to tell him she loved him, to tell him she cared, but her throat was raw and scratchy. When she opened her mouth to speak, she couldn’t get more than a whine out. Still, she sat in the snow, her dress completely frozen, as the wind cut across her icy cheeks and stung her arms. She would die for Rumplestiltskin; even if he didn’t know she was waiting for him, he would after he discovered the body.

{[(/*\\)]}

_ Storybrooke, present day, night of December first. . . _

Emma could have sworn her boots were made of lead as she sulked down the sidewalk. All she wanted was some alcohol, that couldn’t possibly be too much to ask. Granny’s was certainly out of the question; she wanted somewhere where no one would ask her questions or try to offer moral support. The amiability of Storybrooke got on her nerves more often than not, really. It was nice and everything, but it was a far cry from what she was used to. Gold, as bitter and cynical as he was, was a breath of - if not fresh, than maybe needed - air. He got on her nerves, too, but at least she was fighting someone who would actually fight back.

She pushed open the door of the Rabbit Hole, the seediest place in town. No one even blinked when she entered. The strong scent of spirits and sweat invaded her senses at once, but there were no whispers or strange looks. Finally, people who didn’t give a crap. For a moment, with all the noise and people, she could actually convince herself that she was back in Boston; there were no tale-weaving kids, PMSing mayors, Hufflepuff roommates, or shady pawnbrokers/lawyers/probably something else. Before, she thought all she wanted was a family, and now she almost had one, yet she wasn’t sure if it made her feel trapped or free. When had she gone from ready-to-run to maybe-stay-and-fight. It was a scary thought, above all else: fighting and winning. If she won, Henry would be hers. If she won, she would have nowhere to go. If she lost. . . could she leave? Before, she would have said ‘yes.’ Now, though. . .

“Whiskey,” Emma huffed as she slid onto a bar stool.

The kid behind the counter hurried to fulfill her order, the whole time looking as though he would faint. His face was pale, and he couldn’t have been more than seventeen. His head kept turning frantically like he was expecting someone to take a swing at him and his hands shook as he passed her the glass tumbler. She downed it in one swing and hissed as it burned its way down her throat. Let the brain numbing begin. Passing the glass back to the boy, she waved her hand for another.

“Mind if I buy that for you?” a voice called from somewhere off to her left.

Without looking up, Emma sighed, “Sure go ahead. Why would I be able to pay for my own drink anyway, right?”

“Hey, now, I’m just fighting the cause for chivalry,” the smirk in his voice was evident as he took a seat beside her.

And she finally knew who it was. The voice rang in her head as she pulled up the memory of  _ ‘August W. Booth’ _ , yes, with the middle initial. The ‘W’ was key to his oneness with Batman, he had assured her, and who the hell was she to reprimand him for that? His mother must have skipped over Santa and just told him the muscular guy in the black suit glided down his chimney. Maybe his batmobile was pulled by bats, too.

“What do you want, August?” Emma leaned her head against the tabletop, savoring the cool surface.

“Aww, you remember my name,” she could practically hear his smirk, just like Gold, “I’m touched.”

“Shouldn’t you be off wooing Ruby?” she accepted her tumbler back from the twitchy bartender.

“The waitress? I heard you made a great lemur for her. I think you nearly gave her. . . a heart attack?” she looked up to see the smirk that her imagination had been supplying for her thus far.

“She told everyone about the box, didn’t she?” Emma squinted at Stubble.

“Indeed she did. Quite a tale, too, if I do say so myself. Then again, I doubt there were as many puncture wounds as she described,” August scrunched his nose playfully.

Emma took a large gulp of her whiskey, “There weren’t  _ any _ puncture wounds. The heart was cut out carefully, with precision.”

August nodded slowly, “Doesn’t sound like Mary Margaret, not at all.”

“You don’t think she did it?” Emma’s eyes locked with his hopefully.

“The meek school teacher? No. My guess is that it was Regina in the woods with the hunting knife,” Stubble’s smirk came back full force.

Oh, he thought himself funny, did he? Maybe all the men in Storybrooke were either stupid or cocky, not a good selection. Then again, there wasn’t a good selection anywhere. To be kind, she was unlucky in love. She always attracted the smirkers.

“I have no way to prove it. Besides, I’m off duty. No arrests tonight,” Emma took another gulp of her drink.

“Maybe I can help you,” at her plain stare, he elaborated, “Find proof, not arrest someone. I’ve been a good boy, Sheriff: selfless, brave, and true.”

“I’m still waiting for your nose to poke me in the eye,” Emma grumbled.

August laughed and shook his head, “If only you believed.”

“What?” she frowned.

“Nothing.”

Emma sighed again, “So. . . proof?”

“Would you let me help?” August cocked a brow, “Or just yell at me the whole time?”

“Probably a bit of both,” Emma frowned thoughtfully.

August smirked, “I suppose it wouldn’t be you if you didn’t yell at me. It will be the most interesting episode of  _ Investigation with Emma _ , I’ll make sure of it. No one can say no to this face.”

“Investigation with. . . . What are you talking about?” Emma shook her head in confusion.

“Doesn’t matter,” August wrote something on a napkin and slid it over to her with a grin, “Call me.”

Before Emma could say something back - most likely something snappy - August walked out of the bar, swinging his hips all the way to the door. Her life was just full of smug jerks at this point. She was inclined to just throw the napkin away, but help would be nice. She really was starting to feel as though she was running in circles. Picking up the napkin, she entered the number into her phone.

{[(/*\\)]} 

_ Nine years before the Dark Curse struck. . . _

Belle’s eyes fluttered, but then quickly snapped shut again at the burning light. Everything either ached or felt numb, and she didn’t know which was worse. At the same time, her body felt like it was being pierced by thousands of knives. She wasn’t sure when she fell asleep, but she knew she had given in to the cold at some point. Maybe she was dead.

Something warm and soft covered her forehead; it was wet with hot water, she could tell. She parted her lips slightly at the comforting sensation, feeling the warmth slowly seep through her skull. Something cool was pressed to her lips and a moment later, cold water was flowing freely down her raw throat. She winced at the pain, but it made the scratchy feeling go away.

Next, some liquid - not water this time - was put into her mouth. A warm hand cradled her head and held it up, allowing her to swallow the thick substance. She hummed gratefully to whoever was helping her. She still couldn’t quite get words out, but what she was assuming was warm broth and corn was helping to sooth her numbed nerves.

“You stubborn, stubborn girl,” chided a warm voice from above her, “You could’ve died.”

She liked that voice; it was smooth and silky. There was a slight accent hinted at, but she couldn’t tell what it was. It seemed to be almost covered, and it was a little scratchy, as though the man hadn’t used it in a while. It wrapped around her, sliding through her brain with ease. It was so familiar, the little lilt that almost sounded higher in pitch, but the deep tone threw her off.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you had died,” he spoke again, and she wanted to beg him not to stop, “I sent you away so that you could go experience your own life; maybe go see the world, like you said. My curse can’t break, you must understand, because I have somewhere to be, somewhere important.”

Belle made a whine in the back of her throat. Whoever was speaking to her sounded like they were in deep agony, like they were being torn in half. She didn’t like it when people were troubled, it made her melancholy. So many weights to the world, and this man sounded like he picked them all up and put them on his shoulders.

“The son I told you about, I must find him. I wronged him deeply and I must apologize,” there was such sorrow in that familiar voice, “I promised I wouldn’t love again until I found him. You though, my dear, are something all of your own. How could I look at you and not fall in love? I broke my promise once before, but that love pales in comparison to the love I feel for you now. Unfortunately, as I speak, a pretty princess in a close kingdom sings to birds as her step-mother configurates a plan to murder her. It is still years yet until this Queen will be able to kill the King of this kingdom. A prince in another kingdom has yet years to die, then his brother will go fight in his place. So many pieces, so little time. I didn’t think I could afford a distraction, but maybe. . . maybe. . .”

“How. . . old. . . is this. . . p-princess?” Belle choked out, desperate for more of his voice. 

“Right now, she is a decade and nine years of age. In two years, her father will walk along a river bed and find a lamp that I will place. Out of it will come a genie, and the rest is up to Her Majesty. After the princess’s father is dead, the Queen will attempt to kill her, but she will escape. For six years she will live in the forest, running, until she meets her price on the seventh year, just before her day of birth,” the man spoke softly and without pause, as though reading from a book.

“Her. . . name?” Belle whispered.

“Snow White.”

{[(/*\\)]}

_ Storybrooke, present day, night of December first. . . _

Emma absentmindedly traced her finger around the rim of her glass, thinking about her life choices. Run away? Check. Steal stuff? Check. Get caught by your future boyfriend? Check. Fall in love? Check. Get knocked up? Check. Have the love of your life let you take the fall for stolen watches then give birth in jail and ten years later tell your son that his father was a hero? Checkity check check.

And with that, she brought her glass up to her lips and downed the contents. It probably wasn’t wise, but she signaled the bartender for another one. There was sudden yelling behind her as she waited for her drink, and she turned to see what it was. There were two men approaching each other, and as one swung, the other ducked and punched. She was half way off her seat, intent on stopping the fight - she was the sheriff after all - when she decided to sit back down. Maybe it was wrong, but she was off the clock. The alcohol in her system made her mind fuzzy, and she didn’t feel like muscling through the testosterone to break up the bucks. They could fight, maybe losing a few teeth would teach them a lesson. Doubtful.

As the boy set her drink down in front of her, shaking all the worse now, she slapped some cash on the counter not bothering to count it out. Downing her drink, Emma got up and walked out of the bar. She wasn’t sure where she was going, and she felt a little woozy. She barely registered the hand on her arm as she was led into the back alley, tipsy - drunk - as she was.

“Hey, you need some help?” a voice whispered in her ear, “I could. . . drive you home?”

The stranger’s hand landed on her hip, the other one trailing over her ribs. Her lip curled in disgust as she tried to push him off of her. The smell of cigarette smoke and beer invaded her nose as his breath ghosted over her face. Not at all like Gold’s breath, or his scent. He always smelled crisp and spicy, just a touch of cologne.

“No, I can take myself home,” Emma slurred as she attempted to get away again.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s the hurry? We can go slow, darling,” the man’s grip on her waist tightened, “I like to take my time.”

Emma struggled against him as his lips came down on her neck, practically slobbering on her. She tried kicking him, but he was pinning her in place. Her gun was still tucked into her waistband, if only she could reach it. . .

A sharp crack rang out, along with this stranger’s scream. Someone else was in the alley with them. The man was pulled back as he grunted in pain. He opened his mouth in surprise as he was struck across the face with the golden handle of a cane. Blood flew from his mouth as he fell to the ground, holding his hand against his jaw. There was a snarl, and then the cane came down again. . . and again. . . and again. Emma reached out and lightly put her hand on the arm of her savior.

“Stop,” Emma whispered, horrified, “Please.”

Breathlessly, the man with the cane answered, “As you wish.”

“Gold?” she squinted, dim light bathing the pawnbroker’s figure.

“The one and only,” he hissed, still wound up.

Before Emma could think, she grabbed Gold’s lapels and pulled him forward. Surprised, he moved towards her as she tugged. She crashed her lips against his, savoring the flavor of tea. He moaned in shock as her tongue invaded his mouth, but he didn’t attempt to stop her. Her grip on his lapels was still tight as she tried moving him closer to her. Almost instantly, he broke away from her, panting heavily. Emma whined and attempted to chase after him, but he backed up.

“No,” he stated firmly, if hoarsely, “You’re drunk, Miss Swan.”

“No I’m not,” Emma argued.

“ _ Yes _ , you are,” Gold pushed, “And I refuse to take advantage of that. You’re a good person, Miss Swan, I won’t ruin you.”

“What if I want to be ruined?” Emma stuck her chin out daringly.

Gold shook his head, “I’m taking you home.”

“Gladly,” Emma smiled coyly.

“To your home,” Gold clarified.

“Does it really matter where we go?” Emma reached out for him playfully.

“In the car,” Gold pointed to his Cadillac.

Emma crossed her arms defiantly. He sighed in aggravation before hooking his cane over his left arm. His limp was visibly worse as he stepped closer to her, finally. That didn’t stop him, though, from bending down, wrapping his arm around her legs, and hauling her over his shoulder. She squeaked in surprise as he began limping toward his car. She tried kicking and pounding on his back, but he didn’t stop. He opened the door to the back seat and set her on one of the seats before buckling her in. He walked around the car and climbed into the driver’s seat, adjusting the mirror so he could see her pouting face. Once he was assured she wouldn’t jump out, he started the car and drove in the direction of Mary Mragaret’s apartment.

“So. . . you never slept with ole Gina? Not even once?” Emma was almost bouncing in her seat, “Not even a little bit?”

“No, no, and no,” Gold sighed as he waited for the light; it wasn’t like there were any cars, anyway.

“Have you dated  _ anyone _ in this town?” Emma pushed, overzealous.

“No,” Gold answered shortly.

“Have you  _ kissed  _ anyone in this town?” she pulled her knees up to her chest.

She heard Gold’s breath hitch before he whispered, “I’ve kissed you.”

“Did that count?” Emma bit her lip in contemplation.

“I-I don’t know. Maybe,” he made brief eye contact with her through the mirror.

She tilted her head to the side, “Did you enjoy it?”

He didn’t waste a second before breathing out his answer, “Yes.”

Emma smiled, seemingly content with his answer. She hummed happily and continued bobbing in her seat. She had liked it, too. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was drunk, but she really,  _ really _ liked it. Through her foggy mind, she thought that maybe he was a better kisser than Graham. That had to be the alcohol.

{[(/*\\)]}

_ Nine years before the Dark Curse struck. . .  _

This time, when Belle opened her eyes, it was darker. She yawned, feeling drowsy and, thankfully, warm. When she shifted, she groaned in pain. Though she felt silk sheets beneath her, her entire body ached, and her skin was raw and burning. She had a thin cotton shift covering her, but the sheets kept her warm. There was a window to the right of her bed, curtains pulled back. She smiled at the sight of the many affable stars, shining starkly in the sky. Belle looked around, taking in the room she had come to call hers in the Dark Castle. He came back. She knew now who that deep voice had belonged to, the one that lulled her to sleep.

When she tried to sit up, strong, yet gentle, hands pushed her back down lightly, “You mustn’t sit up.”

Belle found herself looking into the reptilian eyes of her True Love. They weren’t so guarded as they normally were; instead, they were clouded over with worry, and maybe even love if she dared to hope. Wordlessly, she settled back against the pillows, praying this wasn’t some sick dream where she woke up to be cold and alone. If she never spoke, maybe he would stay. He bowed his head in shame as he looked her up and down, focusing on the bandages he had placed over the more sensitive areas of her skin.

“You have a bit of frostbite,” Rumplestiltskin whispered, allowing but one tear to slide down his cheek before furiously wiping it away, “I-I’m so sorry, Belle. I never - never wanted to hurt you.”

Belle covered his hand with her own tentatively, finally daring to speak, “I love you.”

“But how could you?” he asked brokenly.

She moved her hand to his cheek, “Because, Rumplestiltskin, you’re a good man.”

“I’m a monster,” he argued.

“A monster would have left me to the cold,” Belle smiled.

“I love you, too,” he leaned his head into her hand further.

“Isn’t there any way I can kiss you?” Belle pleaded.

Rumplestiltskin held his hand over her chest before hesitantly touching her necklace. The teardrop necklace her mother had given her suddenly burned on her throat as magic flowed through it. It didn’t hurt, but she winced just the same. Belle wasn’t sure she would ever get used to magic.

“May I kiss you now, Dark One?” Belle grinned.

A huge smile split his face in half as he gave her a small nod. She leaned in and touched her lips gently to his. She could feel the smile curve his mouth as she slanted her lips. She wasn’t really sure what she was supposed to do in a kiss, but he slowly took the lead. It was nice, her first kiss, really, since she had been avoiding Gaston. She didn’t particularly count the kiss she had given the sorcerer earlier.

She hummed in appreciation as she found the taste of tea in his mouth. Peppermint tea had always been one of her favorites. She could smell the leather of his outfit, and she ran her hand over the silk of his shirt.

When they broke apart, she was breathless, “That was. . . amazing!”

“I love you,” he gave her one more chaste kiss.

“And I love you,” Belle wrapped her arms around his neck, “I promised you forever.”

A slim golden band appeared in his hand and he smiled at her shyly, “Care to promise again?”

“I will never love anyone as I love you, Rumplestiltskin. I will promise as many times as you wish,” Belle sighed happily.

“And I shall never love another as I love you, nor will I ever kiss another. You are all I need. You and my son,” Rumplestiltskin grinned.

“I can’t wait to meet him.”

{[(/*\\)]}

He couldn’t help but feel guilty as he parked the car in front of Miss Blanchard’s apartment building. He had kissed her. She had kissed him, and then he had kissed her back. He said he would never kiss another before he married Belle; he promised he would only kiss her, for she was who he loved. In kissing Emma, he had betrayed Belle, and the worst part was. . . he wanted to do it again. He wanted to kiss Emma until she couldn’t feel her lips anymore, he wanted to show her how much he wanted her. He couldn’t love her, he couldn’t, but he was certainly very fond of her.

He walked around to open her car door, watching fluffy snowflakes pepper the ground. She bounded out, so sweet and innocent. Nothing like Belle, though, not even close. Emma was all rough edges and sharp looks. When he closed his eyes and pictured love, he saw chestnut curls, blue eyes, and porcelain skin. He felt soft kindness, feather kisses, and intimate love. No, Emma wasn’t even close to his True Love, and she never would be.

The sheriff nearly ran up the stairs in her energetic state. Gold, however, took quite a few more minutes. They really needed to install an elevator. Though, he did own the building, so maybe that was his fault. Maybe.

When he got to the top of the stairs, Emma was attempting to unlock the door. Every time she tried to insert her key, she missed, stabbing the door several times. She was bent over, eye level with the keyhole. It was rather amusing, actually, as she spit profanities.

“The key won’t go in the hole!” Emma growled in frustration.

Gold snickered, “Perhaps you’re not pushing hard enough.”

“I keep missing!” Emma pouted.

“Maybe it’s your angle,” Gold grinned.

“Maybe the key’s too big for the hole,” Emma nodded as if she had discovered the secrets of the universe.

“Just push really hard, and if it gets stuck, just twist and push harder,” Gold suggested.

“But I can’t get it in the hole!” she threw her hands up.

“Just center it, and then stick it in there,” he laughed.

“Are we still talking about the key?” Emma’s eyebrows rose.

Gold smirked, “Were we ever?”

Emma huffed and thrust the key into his hand. She pointed at the door and crossed her arms, waiting for him to unlock it. He had half a mind to say “yes, dear,” but thought better of it. After all, drunk Emma still knew how to use a gun just as well as sober Emma. So he stuffed the key in the hole, smiling at her stunned expression.

“How’d you get it in there on the first try?” she looked at him quizzically.

“Practice,” Gold motioned for her to enter the apartment.

Once they were inside, Emma locked the door, almost automatically. Gold studied the lock, considering telling Emma how flimsy it was, but decided against it. Regina had keys to every house, shop, and building in Storybrooke. If the witch wanted to get in there, she could. Gold looked around, taking in the Christmas decorations everywhere, almost like a bomb went off. Emma approached the stairs carefully, as though they were a dragon to be conquered. Gold stood behind her, just in case. She wobbled on the first few steps, but he propped his cane up on the kitchen counter and grabbed her hips to help steady her. They did their mini Conga line up to the top of the stairs where Emma’s room was stationed. Well, not a room, really, more like the whole upstairs. He had seen the thin, white curtain that surrounded Mary Margaret’s bed downstairs. She had clearly given Emma the better room. There were clothes littering Emma’s floor, along with various papers that could have blown off her desk. Either she had had a window open, or she was really just that messy.

To his great surprise, as soon as he let go of her waist, Emma kicked her boots away and peeled her jeans off, throwing those on the floor, too. Gold looked straight up, but not before he got an eye full of creamy skin. He closed his eyes, holding his breath as he counted to ten, trying to calm himself down. It wasn’t every day he had the sheriff put on a strip show for him.

He looked back down when he heard the rustle of the sheets as she climbed into bed. Her leather jacket was draped over the footboard, allowing her to snuggle comfortably into her sheets. Gold nodded once before turning to go grab his cane and leave.

“Wait,” Emma called, “Please don’t go.”

“What?” Gold turned back around, confused.

“Please stay. Just for tonight,” she pleaded.

It was on the tip of his tongue to refuse, but she looked so helpless and sad, “W-Why would you want me to stay?”

“Without Mary Margaret, I’m alone. I don’t want to be alone,” Emma sniffed slightly.

All at once, he saw his little Lost Girl. The girl who had been torn away from her family to be shaped into his curse-breaker. He couldn’t bear looking at her and saying ‘no,’ not now. After everything he did to her, he owed her this small request. This was the girl he shaped, the girl he broke. Now, he was putting her back together so she could break something for him. He was a monster, there were no two ways around it.

“As you wish,” Gold dipped his head in acquiescence.

He laid his jacket over hers before grabbing a pillow and a blanket from the end of her bed. He settled on the floor, looking up at the ceiling. He had only gone to that bar because he figured that was where she would be. He had only wanted to tell her about his plan for Mary Margaret. Now, he laid next to her, albeit on the floor, in her bedroom so that she wouldn’t be lonely.

“Good night, Gold,” Emma muttered sleepily.

“Good night, my Savior,” he whispered back.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please comment. I hope you enjoyed! :}


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